The Ghost in the Circuits
by Lady NeverAfterNon
Summary: No fate but what we make, the future is not set. Blair makes a different decision when rescuing Marcus, one that changes the outcome of their fate. M/B Language warning.
1. Chapter 1 The Ghost in the Circuits

**Author's Note: **_Attempt two. If people prefer the other one, I'll repost that. If it's not obvious, lol, this story is beginning after the campfire scene at the track in T4. Please let me know what you think, feed back would be awesome._

**Disclaimer**: _ I own nothing._

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**The Ghost in the Circuit**

**By:** _Lady NeverAfterNon_

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Blair woke slowly and struggled to open eyes gummed shut with sleep. It was one of those lovely battles that she had always enjoyed fighting as a kid, but now in the war torn future it was a rare treat indeed to get to enjoy waking up. The Waste was always cold, but she was warm right down to her toes. Not to mention comfortable; she was so insanely comfortable it should be a sin. The heavy arm holding her was draped across her back, pinning the faded blue coat between them. It wasn't a down comforter but damn if she wasn't the most content that she had been in years. She wanted to stretch and curl deeper into the man beneath her, but wasn't sure if she could get away with it.

He was awake; she could tell by his breathing and how his heart thumped a little faster than normal. She grinned at the fact that big, bad Marcus Wright, so lethal the night before, was nervous about holding a woman. It was downright funny, and a little strange. The man was an enigma, that was for sure. They had chemistry: she felt it, he felt it. The sparks practically flew between them like someone had stuck a telephone wire into a pool and the resulting explosion could have downed a city block.

He was also skittish, which frustrated her. Hence the stretching debate.

She had made it as plain as she could that she wanted him. She went as far as to practically strip for him, but he didn't take the bait. He wanted her, sure, her skin had practically burned under the heat of his gaze but he didn't make a move. _Do you believe in second chances?_ Marcus Wright had ghosts nipping at his heels, and only a man tortured by his past would ask a question like that to a stranger.

Fuckit. She decided to stretch anyway. Her muscles needed it, and it would be one last test. She wouldn't continue to throw herself at a man who wasn't interested. She didn't have a lot in this machine infested shithole, but she had her pride.

She stretched and enjoyed the firmness of his body underneath her. Her joints popped and her muscles stretched. Lovely. She finally chanced a look up at his face. He was watching her from hooded blue eyes, and a muscle was working in his strong jaw. His gaze burned her and she wondered if the third time was the charm.

"Good morning," she said finally, and then was immediately embarrassed at how husky and scratchy her morning voice was.

"Good morning."

The reply was curt and her heart dropped into her stomach, unbidden. Well that was that then. An unspoken 'no' was still a 'no'. Blair cleared her throat and surgically and dispassionately extracted herself from his arms. The fire had long since burned out and she kicked sand over the ashes, while digging in her pack for some protein bars.

They were homemade and wrapped in wax paper and had the consistency and taste of dirt, but they worked to shut up her complaining stomach for the time being.

She offered him half. "Hungry?"

"No." He was already scanning their surroundings, searching for threats.

She shoved the remainder of her gooey granola block into her face, and shouldered her pack. Blair chambered a round into her service weapon and holstered it, but made sure it was unclipped and ready for a quick draw. They headed out, Blair leading the way. The wind blew at their backs, pushing them forward and skittering pebbles and coating their legs with grit.

Blair didn't look back at him, but she could hear the steady crunch of his boots just behind her. She wondered what he was thinking. Blair found herself wanting to ask, but couldn't find the guts to bridge the chasm that lurked between them. Marcus was a mystery. His face didn't bear the wear of years and years of war, and he didn't seem to be suffering any of the affects of radiation like some of the survivors who chose to live near cities that had taken the brunt of Skynet's pounding.

His voice jolted her from her speculating. "How long have you been in the Resistance?"

"Since I was old enough," Blair said, "I was one of the lucky ones to be able to join up right away. My dad taught me to fly and I got my pilots' license when I was fourteen. The Resistance was able to use me. After Judgement Day, when the radiation storms died down, I found the nearest Resistance base and joined up."

"Why so quick to risk your neck?" Marcus asked, "Seems to me you'd have a better chance at surviving if you stayed hid."

Blair smiled, a small bitter motion that ghosted across her face that was gone before it got started. "Because the machines killed my dad."

Blair tried to pretend that her voice didn't break, and busied herself with studying her compass. Marcus was quiet, and then she felt his hand briefly squeeze her shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"Did you have family?" Blair asked, "Before the war?"

"I had a brother."

Had being the operative word here. He didn't give anymore than that and Blair didn't press. She knew a painful subject when she saw one and Marcus was showing all of the tells. So something was up with his brother, something that put shadows into his eyes and a pained line in his forehead. She changed the subject.

"Will you be staying on with us, after we see about your friends?" she asked, rather hoping that he would even though he hadn't made any moves. He was growing on her already.

Marcus's brow smoothed and he rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "I don't-"

He stopped. Blair slowed her steps. The remains of a small town diner and part of a gas station loomed up out of the desert in front of them. The little town had probably been a small rest stop on the edge of a main highway, but that wasn't what had halted the conversation. A massive Hunter Killer trawled along the desert floor towards them, just barely skimming the hard packed surface. The machine's engines kicked up fat lazy clouds of dust behind it as it hummed along. Six Moto-Terminator's worked a grid pattern beneath it, their wheels spitting gravel and dirt as they changed directions. Hunting.

Blair swallowed. It was just a standard scout operation combing still standing structures for human survivors. They hadn't been spotted yet; if they had, they would know it.

She grasped Marcus's hand and yanked him towards the diner. They skirted the wall of the gas station, a dilapidated Holiday sign creaking ominously in the wind from the HK. Blair crept through the weeds, pressing into the rough sun bleached metal of the gas station's last remaining wall. The hot metal burned, but that was nothing compared to what the machines would do to them if they were found.

Marcus's fingers wound through hers and he gave her a quick squeeze. Blair looked back at him. He bent, so that his mouth just barely brushed her ear. "I had an aunt who had a restaurant once."

God his voice was sexy. It sent shivers down her spine, and her toes were curling. Freaking dammit, now was not the time for her libido to be noticing her insanely hot traveling companion. Her stupid hormones didn't have an off switch, but she'd be damned if she was going to pay any attention to them. Blair kept her face stoic. She craned her head back and whispered, "So?"

He quirked a smile. "Most southern places that serve food have cellars. Good place to hide in."

She quirked an eyebrow. "That's a weak leap of faith. You sure?"

"Not like we got a better choice."

He was right. Between them their arsenal consisted of a crowbar, her knife, and her service weapon, a Desert Eagle .44 Magnum. Not much for defense when their opponents outnumbered them and were machines.

She nodded. Staying as low as they could, they sneaked like ratty ninjas through the doors of the diner. The doors had once been red, but only a few flakes of pinkened lead paint remained. The doors were barely on their hinges, and Marcus had to hold them open for her when she squeezed in. He had barely set the door back in its place before a Moto-Terminator came whizzing around the outside of the diner, sun glinting off of its black body like the chitin of a large mechanical beetle.

Blair didn't even trust herself to breath. All it would have to do was swivel its red optics a 45 degree angle and they would be made. The Moto-Terminator didn't look, though. It was running a systematic check of the area. Craning around and poking into things before it had completely followed its search parameters was a human thing, not a machine one. And the machines were nothing if not systematic.

The machine moved on and they darted through the diner to the back. Blair winced at the sound of glass crunching under their boots. The Moto-Terminator's sensors were not as acute as the humanoid Terminators'. The situation they were in sucked, but Blair had to be grateful for the fact that it was a few Motos and an HK, and not a legion of model T-700's.

There wasn't a cellar in the diner. They both stared at the empty floor of the back room, devoid of cellar door.

"Fuck," Marcus muttered.

Fuck indeed, Blair agreed. The high pitched_ whirr_ announced the Moto-Terminator's return. Blair yanked at his hand, pulling him towards the remnants of the giant industrial oven. The door inched open, flakes of rust fluttering to the floor like delicate orange leaves. Blair heaved herself inside, mashing her body up against the filthy back wall to make room for him. He crawled in after her and pulled the oven door closed. It was the size of a luxury car trunk and smelled like rotting plants. She curled into his side, tucking her nose into his coat.

It was dark in the oven; all she could see was the dim curve of his jaw and the line of his throat. He was filthy, just as grubby as she was after a long trudge in the desert, but she wondered all the same what his skin would taste like if she were to put her mouth on it. They both watched the diner through the oxidized glass.

The Moto-Terminator rolled smoothly in, breaking down the door and rolling right over it. It's red optic sensors swept back and forth, running its standard search for squatters. She was afraid to breath for fear it would hear them. Marcus's heart thumped right underneath her ear, and while her body was wired with sick adrenaline, the sound was oddly comforting.

The Moto-Terminator rolled through the diner once, and then left, rejoining its group.

They stayed in the cramped oven until long after the rumble of the HK's engines had departed. Marcus kicked the door open and the ovens rusted out hinges snapped right off underneath his booted heel. The door dropped to the cracked and dirty linoleum with a loud clang. Blair crawled out after him, brushing dirt from her butt.

"I'll meet you outside," Marcus said heading towards a back room, "I gotta take a piss."

"Sure." Blair cupped her cold hands around her mouth and went outside.

The sun was getting low, and the desert got freaking _cold_ at night. They were going to have to hoof it if they were going to make it back to base before dark. She stuck her hands in her pockets and puckered her lips, making her breath plume out in cottony white clouds. Fuck it was cold.

A tell tale _whirr_ froze her breath in her lungs. Blair turned, slowly. A single Moto-Terminator had been left behind as a sentry and it was rolling around the edge of the diner right towards her. Its glowing red optic sensors landed on her heat signature in the cold almost immediately. Blair's hands were cold but it didn't impede her draw. Her gun cleared its holster and she fired, .44 Magnum rounds sparking off of the plate that protected the Moto's central processor. It didn't sit still and let her hit it. The Moto-Terminator roared at her, wheels spitting gravel.

M1919 Browning machine guns, one mounted on either side of the machine, opened fire. Bullets spattered the ground in two lines straight at her, dirt arching up in rapid columns. There was nowhere to run. Blair emptied the rest of her clip into the Moto, bullets pinging off the surface of the Terminator.

The gun clicked. Empty. Blair squeezed her eyes shut. She hadn't expected to go out like this, she always imagined she would go out in a fire ball with her plane. Not...gunned down like a dog. Fuck. At least with all the noise she made Marcus had enough warning to make a clean getaway. At least something good came out of this fuckstorm.

Marcus yelled. Her eyes snapped open in time to see him smash into the Moto-Terminator as it rolled passed, and the speed of his momentum sent man and machine crashing into the gas station's last standing wall. The Moto's machine guns fired wildly as it tried to throw Marcus off. Blair flung herself out of the way of the hail of bullets and, casting one frantic glance back at Marcus who sat astride the thrashing Terminator with a grim determined expression, and sprinted into the diner to look for something, anything with witch to bludgeon that hell on wheels to death.

She sprang over the remains of the door and looked around wildly, thick brown curls falling into her eyes. A fire extinguisher and an ax were mounted on a wall, covered by a cracked and dirty pane of glass. She padded her elbow with her coat and knocked out the glass. She wrenched the ax from the wall and raced back outside.

Marcus still held the Moto-Terminator pinned, hands white with strain. Damn, he was either insanely strong or insanely heavy to be able to keep that thing downed.

"Watch your hands!" Blair snarled.

Marcus's gaze flicked up at her and he looked a little disconcerted at the sight of the rusty ax blade and her grim steely eyed expression.

"Don't worry, I have excellent aim," she muttered, and chuckled at the look on his face.

Blair swung and the ax crashed through the black plate protecting the machine's central processor. The Moto-Terminator sparked angrily and gave Marcus one last good jostle, but he held on grimly and the red back light in the machine's optics finally died. Blair left the ax head buried in the machine and dusted off her hands.

"Well, that's that. Come on." She held out a hand for him, and he grasped it.

Blair grunted. The bastard was_ heavy, _and she suspected that he was only letting her pull a portion of his weight. "What have you been eating, rocks?"

Her stomach punctuated the silence with a loud grumbling snarl. It had been a long time since her protein bars, and she was hungry enough to ask him to share his boulders or whatever it was that made his large ass heavier than her Warthog. A wicked grin pulled across his face as she covered her complaining guts with her hands, embarrassed. It struck her then just how damn good looking he was when he smiled. _Dear god,_ she thought,_ I must not be the only one. With a smile like that, he probably has to beat the ladies off with a goddamn stick_.

He laughed at her. "Why, you lookin' to get into my stash?"

Blair tugged at his hand. "Whatever. Base is just beyond that tree line, c'mon."

The walk through the trees was uneventful, and she almost cried in relief when she spied the barbed wire fence. A bed and food and did she mention lovely yummy food? Only a short walk away. Blair decided that she was going to bully him into eating with her before she took him to see Connor. She wanted to spend as much time with him as she could, before life's path took them in different directions.

"Blair."

His word of warning stopped her short, and she turned to see him eyeing a triangular beat up sign marked with a skull and cross bones.

"Don't worry, this is us. If we head due west at this point of entry, we're good. I'll go first," she chuckled and clapped his shoulder.

She hoofed it through no man's land, able to think of virtually nothing at this point but putting her face into something hot and filling and motorboating the shit out of it. Those protein bars were _eons_ away now. Home was only a hole in the ground but ooooh she could not wait to be there.

"Let's go Marcus," she called, "I'm _starving_."

There was a crunch and a dull clank of one of the mines engaging. Blair wielded around to find a mine attached to his fucking leg. His wide blue gaze met hers and they shared a look of sinking horror before the mine went off, blowing Marcus onto his back. Blair sprinted to him, skidding to a halt in the dirt at his side and dropping to her knees.

"Marcus," she shouted, shaking him, panic getting the best of her, "MARCUS!"

He coughed, a horrible wet noise and blood bubbled up to coat his mouth. He'd busted some capillaries in his eyes, and those gorgeous baby blues weren't focusing on her but looking straight through her as though he were a thousand miles away. Which he was, he'd stepped on a fucking mine for chrissake. She was going to kill Barnes for putting the wrong mines in the safe zone. His hand curled around hers and he squeezed, hard. She squeezed back.

Blair turned and screamed for all she was worth. "Help! Someone get your_ fucking_ asses up here!"

Morrison was on duty, and the man's mousy gray head popped out of the Resistance's entrance. "Get the fuck over here," Blair screamed at him, "Or I swear to god I will shoot you."

She neglected to tell him that her gun was empty and that she was bluffing. Nonetheless he trotted over to her, followed quickly by Barnes. Both men grabbed Marcus by his shoulders and Blair grabbed his boots. All three of them grunted and heaved him into the air. He was so heavy it was almost insane.

"It'll be okay," she murmured at him when those unseeing blue eyes fell on her, "It'll all be okay."

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_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2 Escape

**Author's Note:** _Boo!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 2:** Escape

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Blair lurked in the corridor outside Marcus's holding cell, trying to make it look like she wasn't in fact lurking. Marcus had stopped screaming a while ago, and when Morrison and Barnes had left after restraining him, their knuckles were bloody. Blair had gotten a look at Marcus before the heavy door swung shut. Barnes and Morrison had stripped him, everything except for his pants, and strung him up from a car axel.

Blair felt ill. The mine's explosion had blown holes in him, revealing the machine buried under the surface of the man. Metal crisscrossed under his skin in a macabre imitation of human innards. They had chained up his head so that he could look nowhere but straight ahead. His blue eyes had lanced hers right before the door closed. Pain, fear, and not a small amount of hate were inscribed into that pretty face.

Footsteps interrupted her self guilt tripping.

John Connor was striding purposefully towards Marcus's cell wearing an expression that suggested he'd been chewing glass. His wife followed him, face equally grim, and a slim hand was resting on her very pregnant stomach. She should probably have been on bed rest, but everyone knew better than to try to separate Kate Connor from her husband, especially if he was doing something dangerous. Which was often.

Blair fell into step next to Kate, rather surprised when no one said anything about her walking into Marcus's cell. Blair had brought him right into their home turf, and she wasn't part of Connor's inner circle. There must be questions for her then, since they were letting her in on the interrogation.

Her heart gave a twinge when she got a good look at the machine she had thought was a man. He was filthy, and his mechanical insides were stark against his ruined skin. Marcus didn't look at her and for that she was grateful. That one look of betrayal he had given her was enough. She couldn't let go of the man who had rescued her so many times she was ashamed to keep count: he'd cut her down when her parachute had been strangling her, saved her from the would-be rapists at the track, and sat on a freaking Moto-Terminator while she had bludgeoned it with an ax. Yep, she was repaying him pretty damn poorly, whatever her good sense was saying about Skynet's underhandedness.

John studied Marcus, a frown creasing his forehead. "The devil's hands have been busy," he rasped, "What is it?"

Kate crossed her arms over her belly. "Real flesh and blood, though it seems to heal itself much more quickly than is normal. The heart is human, and very powerful."

Blair's gaze flicked down to Marcus's exposed chest. His face was twisted in an angry snarl, but the rapid beats of his heart belied the adrenaline fueled fear coursing through him. Every now and then he thrashed, trying to break the chains holding him suspended in the air. Barnes and Morrison did their job well though; Marcus wasn't going anywhere.

Blair chewed her lip, studying the chains. At least not without help, he wasn't.

"The brain, too, but with a chip interface," Kate continued.

"What have you done to me?" Marcus finally spoke, his confusion and anger winning out over his pride.

Kate talked right over him. "It has a hybrid nervous system. One human cortex, one machine."

Blair searched Marcus's battered face. So there _was_ a man in there, somewhere. And he was strung up like an animal, like a machine. His neck strained as his eyes finally met hers and she nearly crumbled at the onslaught of overwhelming guilt. What had she done? How could they not see the man in there along with the machine? It went against every code of ethics she had to continue to let him hang there. Part of her knew that machines were not to be trusted, that Skynet could learn and did learn to strike at human heartstrings, but she could see Marcus the man looking back at her. Not a machine.

"Blair, what have they done?" he whispered. What have you let them do. The words were unspoken, but still audible.

"Who built you?" Conner said.

"My name is Marcus Wright" he growled.

Connor's lips thinned. "You think you're human?"

"I _am_ human."

Connor said nothing, but stepped forward to release the chain restraining Marcus's head. Blair's eyes closed briefly, not wanting to see the moment of horror and realization that would cross the cyborg's face when he saw what he was. Blair had no doubt that he didn't know, she had spent enough time with him to read him no matter what the arguments against that might be, the shock was going to be awful.

Marcus's gaze followed Connor's and his eyes dropped down with some trepidation. Blair saw the exact moment of realization before he started screaming. Tension went through his limbs and then he threw back his head. His screams froze her blood and Blair had to close her eyes like it was a physical assult.

"NO!" Marcus raged against his restraints, throwing his body around, trying desperately to break free as though he could somehow run from himself.

"Where were you manufactured?" John relentlessly pursued him, trying to break him.

"I was born," Marcus snarled, continuing to struggle, "August 22, 1975."

Marcus threw himself into his chains with more vigor, trying to extend his machine strength beyond what the man's mind thought itself capable of. Blair chewed her lip. Bolt cutters would be ideal in getting him free, but they were massive and there was no way she could lug them into his cell and get away with it. A blow torch would be easier to conceal, but there was no way she could do it without hurting him. But then again, she debated, looking at his metal insides, it wouldn't be any lasting damage.

"I know you," Marcus said, attention once again coming back to Connor, "I heard your voice on the radio. You're John Connor."

"Of course you know me," John said, "You were sent here to kill me. Kill the leadership."

No he wasn't, Blair realized. The look on his face, he really did have no idea what the fuck was going on. He thought they were all crazy. She was going to get him out of here, she decided finally, she owed Marcus the man that much. And if he really was a diabolical Skynet infiltrator, then it was best to get him as far away from John Connor as possible.

Marcus was incredulous, clearly thinking that Connor was blowing smoke up his ass. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then why are you here?" Connor asked.

"Blair said you'd help me find who I'm looking for." Marcus spoke her name normally, but to Blair it was a bullet. She'd led him here, she'd got him into this.

Connor's gaze skewered her and she wiped her pitying expression. Connor always seemed to have the sixth sense when if came to machines and people both, and it would be a very bad thing if he knew what she was going to do.

"Let me down," Marcus said.

"If I let you down, you'll kill everyone in this room."

"No, just you, Conner, because I don't give a shit about you," Marcus snarled, hints of his Australian brogue breaking through and coloring his speech. "I didn't know your name until two days ago.

"No," Connor said, moving towards him, both men now a few inches apart, "We've been at war before either of us even existed."

Blair forced down an eye roll. Oh god here it comes. John Connor had the gift for machines, that was for sure, but she had always been a little leery about the fact that he had future knowledge, knew things would happen before they actually happened. Even if he did, even if he was the peoples' prophet, Marcus didn't deserve to be the whipping boy for that. Her gaze flicked down into the shaft below Marcus's feet. The ducts were air shafts and led to an escape chute that opened in the mine field. Detonation cord would get them past the magnetic mines that protected no man's land, but past the abandoned jeep they would have to be fast and run for it. Her stomach clenched. The Resistance Snipers were nothing if not very, very good at their job. Marcus had a chance to get out, he was made of metal, but her? Chances were very slim indeed. She wasn't indestructible, just frail flesh and bone.

Her lips tightened. She was going to get him out, whatever the cost. She owed him her life. It was about damn time she paid her debt.

Heavy steps clattering on the metal walkway shook her from her reverie. It looked like Connor was done interrogating. A muscle was working in his jaw, and if anything he looked even more pissed than when they came in. Blair cast one last look back at Marcus and then followed John and Kate from the cell.

"Where'd you find that thing?" Connor ground out.

"You sent Mihradi and me to cover some civilians," Blair said, "He was one of them."

Connor stopped short. "Was there a teenage boy?"

Blair's brow furrowed, raking her memory. "I honestly don't know. They were taken into a transport by a Harvester. He was the only one left."

"Not 'he' Blair, 'it', don't be naive," Connor said and stalked away.

Blair caught Kate's arm as she moved to follow her husband. She had to know for sure before she attempted what was basically treason. "What's going to happen to Marcus?"

Kate stared back at her, eyes cold. "Disassembled."

Blair was horrified. "You mean killed?"

"It may have valuable information on Skynet," Kate said.

"I know he's not the enemy," Blair said, "I've been shot at by the enemy and that's not him."

"That machine saved you only to gain access to kill all of us," Kate snapped.

Blair watched Kate Connor walk away and took a deep breath. Fuck, she was not looking forward to dying, but she had to get Marcus out. Blair headed straight to her bunk and grabbed her pack and her service weapon, and a few magazines of ammo. She shared a room with four other people but Marcus was a big guy, she couldn't steal any of their clothes for him. They wouldn't fit his large frame. His clothes would be in Kate's operating room, so that was where she headed. Blair stopped to steal a spool of detonation cord from one of the supply rooms, and then snuck into the med ward.

Torches, bolt cutters, everything was laid out already for Marcus's destruction, and Blair had a sinking suspicion that they wouldn't even put him under first. Blair stuffed Marcus's clothes into her pack, and laid a cutting torch on top of her loot. She paused at Kate's med cabinet. There would be a guard watching Marcus; Connor wouldn't take the chance that he might break free. Blair was loathe to kill anyone, even though she was already in too deep. Better to grab tranqs just in case she couldn't bullshit her way out. She pulled out a knife and a pick, carefully jimmying the lock until it opened. She found the tranquilizers, hypodermic needles sheathed in sterile plastic. Blair grabbed four, then high tailed it out of there.

She got into Marcus's cell, easy enough, and was starting to think that everything might just work out. A gunshot made her jump. Marcus screamed. Barnes stood by the edge of the pit, a shiny pistol pointed straight at Marcus. Blair came up next to him and watched Marcus writhe. Her heart broke.

"Connor wants to see you." The words were bullshit even to her ears.

Apparently Barnes thought so too, because he just looked at her. "What for?"

She snorted in derision, and it was real. She would never be in the inner circle, they both knew that. "Like he's gonna tell me Barnes."

Blair held her hand out for Barnes's gun. "Lemme see that."

She raised the pistol and hoped her expression was significantly hard because she felt like vomiting. She pulled the trigger and the bullet sparked off of Marcus's stomach. He convulsed, it had to have hurt him, but he didn't make a sound. He just looked..._tired_.

"You want me to tell Connor you're not coming?" Blair asked.

"No."

Barnes turned to go, and in that moment Blair realized that she had given them a few minutes of escape, nothing more. Once Barnes reached Connor the jig would be up and they would be fucked. She reached into her pack and ripped the plastic cap off the tranquilizer with her teeth. Blair jammed the needle into Barnes's ass, the closest injection point she could reach, and pushed the plunger home.

He turned, lightning fast, and his fist caught her across the mouth. She tasted blood. Blair fell, hair swinging into her face, but she scrambled up a second later hands raised in a defensive posture. Barnes stumbled towards her, teeth bared in a snarl, but he was weaving. He was a foot away from her when he crashed into the grate and lay still. Blair stared at his body. Oh was she going to get it now.

Bair yanked the lever holding Marcus restrained, and he plunged to the floor with a surprised yell. She threw her pack down after him and swung down his chains to land with a crash nearby. She wasted no time in pulling out her cutting torch and freeing him; she had to be quick about this. They wouldn't be noticed until the guard change, but blowing up the magnetic mines outside would be sure to get people's attention.

Once he was free, she tugged his chains off and threw his clothes at him. "Get dressed."

He didn't look at her, merely pulled on his boots. Blair swallowed a sigh. Of course he wasn't going to want to talk to her. She'd just _shot_ him for chrissake. Trying not to be hurt, Blair dumped her cutting tools into her pack and slapped a magazine into her service weapon. She didn't feel Marcus coming until he was on her.

A calloused hand closed around her neck and for a split second she thought she'd made a grave mistake. For the first time around him she felt real fear shoot through her. Her hand closed over her gun.

His gaze was clear though, there was no malice and no machine indifference in his face. He looked apologetic as his hand moved to her hair, curling a few brown strands around his fingers. He was so, so close.

"Thank you," he whispered, "And sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You did a little bit," she breathed, unable to look away from him.

The moment stretched out like an eternity, both held frozen by the other. He bent towards her almost imperceptibly and she swallowed. She wanted so, so badly to kiss him, and it looked like he was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes and broke free of his grasp. Now was not the time to be wondering about her nonexistent love life, and with a machine no less. Blair pulled a small fire extinguisher from the wall and stuffed it into the grate covering their escape route. She raised her gun.

Marcus realized her intent a split second before she fired, and stood in front of her tucking her head into his shoulder with one large hand. Blair pulled the trigger and the grate blew off of the wall. She felt it hit Marcus and he grunted at the impact. He pushed her towards the open smoking hole. Someone was bound to have heard that.

He helped her in, propping the grate back up after them. They scrambled through the ducts, Blair trying not to think about the fact that his head was about a foot away from her butt. It was the freaking apocalypse, but she found herself wondering if her bottom looked okay. Blair rolled her eyes. She was being stupid. She grasped the small plate covering the outside of the duct and pushed, futilely, the damn thing wasn't budging.

"Shit," she muttered.

Marcus squirmed past her and lay on his back. He rammed the plate with his booted foot until it shot off, coming to land in the dirt. The covering exploded upward a second later.

"We're back in the mine field." Marcus was a tad sardonic.

"I have a plan," she said, winking at him.

Blair tossed the roll of detonation cord towards the jeep, and pushed the primer. The det cord exploded, causing the magnetic mines to go off sparking, one after the other.

Marcus gripped her hand. "Run!"

They ran, hand in hand through no man's land, passed the jeep towards the relative safety of the woods. Shouts echoed behind them, then gunfire. They were going to make it, they might actually make it. Blair's lungs burned. Not far now, they were actually farther than she thought they would get. Marcus's breathing was steady, his grip on her hand was firm. They were so close, just a few more feet-

Agony exploded in her thigh and she collapsed, dropping to the dirt like a stone. Her hand was torn from his. Her fingers closed over the bullet wound and the touch of her hand made it burn like fire. Well, fuck, she was out of the game now. Marcus sprinted back to her, heaving her to her feet, yanking her along. Blair tried, she really did, but she was slowing them down and the pain was almost unbearable. She stopped them under the cover of a dilapidated wall.

"Marcus," she hissed, gritting her teeth through the pain, "This is as far as I go."

"I'm not leaving you," he said firmly.

"Honestly I got farther than I thought I would," Blair told him, "Gimme your jacket."

Marcus didn't move. "What are they going to do to you?"

Blair had been wondering that very thing and decided not to think about it. "I'll be fine, don't worry."

He shrugged off his jacket, and she put it on, resisting her urge to bury her nose in its folds. The fabric was warm with his body heat and it was a welcome relief to her chilled hands. She gave him a trembling smile.

"Kick rocks, Iron Man," she said, "Once you hit the woods you should be safe."

Marcus's hands framed her face, thumbs grazing lightly over her cheekbones. The intense look on his face made her insides curl deliciously. She realized he was waiting for her to make a move, waiting for her permission. Well fuck, he had it. Blair gripped his head and crushed her mouth against his. He opened up underneath her, hot and wet. His kiss was relentless, branding her lips. She relished the feel of his firm, full mouth, and the rasp of his stubble. Fuck what the others thought; no machine could learn to kiss like that. She swallowed a laugh. She doubted Barnes, or Marcus, would be willing to test her theory. It was a funny thought though.

He broke away from her and rested his forehead against hers. They were both breathing like they had run a freaking marathon. Blair cupped his cheek.

"Let's get you out of here," she said softly.

He nodded. Marcus pressed a fierce kiss to her forehead and sprinted off, the darkness swallowing him whole. Blair tucked her hair into the coat and got down on her belly, hands on her head. The dirt and grit was leaving dents in her skin, but all she could feel was him. His scent, his mouth, _fuck, _she was so far gone it was almost sad.

She heard truck wheels skid to a halt beside her and boots hit the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. A rough hand turned her over and her stomach sank when she saw Barnes's furious face. Oops. Looks like the tranq didn't last as long as she thought it would.

"You got me," she said sheepishly.

His expression twisted and her insides froze. She was well and truly fucked.

"You traitorous bitch!" he snarled.

Barnes raised his boot and stomped on her stomach. Blair jackknifed, agony shooting through her guts. She screamed, loud and ragged the moment she could draw enough air. Barnes kicked her gunshot wound and she almost blacked out. Blair sobbed and began to crawl away from him. He followed her, sliding bullets into his revolver.

"Where the fuck you goin?" he yelled, "Back to your machine?"

His foot hit her ribs, flipping her over. Tears and dirt stained her face. "Barnes, don't-"

"Don't what?" he shouted, putting the cold barrel to her forehead, "DON'T WHAT?"

Blair's eyes closed, tears streaming down her cheeks, but neither of them found out if Barnes was actually going to pull the trigger. Marcus came barreling out of the darkness. He slammed into Barnes, bringing the other man to the ground with the force of his momentum. Marcus smashed his head into Barnes's and the man was out cold. Blair winced. That had to hurt; Marcus had a hard head.

Marcus heaved her to her feet and when she couldn't walk, crouched down in front of her. "Get on."

She sort of collapsed against him, arms curling around his neck. He gripped her thighs and she bit back a yelp of pain from the bullet wound. Instead she buried her face in the crook of his neck. His skin was undamaged there, and god he smelled good. Her head felt fuzzy, pain and blood loss was causing her to fade. Marcus stood and began to run, shouts and gunfire echoing behind them as they left Barnes immobile in the dirt.

"This is not how I wanted to ride you," she mumbled, and then immediately blushed. Fuck she had said that out loud. Dear god the pain was making her stupid.

Marcus chuckled. "Hold on, we're almost out of here."

He crashed into the safety of the tree line and didn't stop. Blair heard the rumble of a helicopter and knew she should probably care, but she was fading fast.

"Stay with me, Blair." Marcus sounded like he was miles away.

"Sorry," she murmured, and everything went dark.

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><p><em>.<em>

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3 On the Run

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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**Chapter 3:** On the Run

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Blair groaned. She felt like someone had tied her to the front of a 18 wheeler and keelhauled her. It was dark out and she wondered how long she had been under. The pallet underneath her was oddly comfortable, and the swatch of cameo netting above her made her feel that if she tried hard enough she could imagine herself somewhere tropical. Back to a time and place when the world wasn't so fucked. Someone had hung tiny little trinkets, shiny bits of glass and metal, from the netting and they sparkled like stars. There was a fire burning nearby and the light reflected off of the baubles, a light breeze caused them to tinkle slightly. Ivy curled through everything, the plants breaking down the building around her. She felt like she was in a fucking fairy forest. There was crap everywhere, hoarded remnants of a lost time where murderous robots weren't out to take over the world.

This was someone's hidey hole. Marcus's maybe? Nah, he didn't seem the type to magpie shit away. Wherever it was they were up high, probably a sky rise, which meant a city. The closest was L.A.

She slowly and carefully sat up, holding her ribs. Someone had stripped her down to her tank top and underwear, and she hoped it was Marcus and not some Wasteland douche bag hoping to get lucky. Probably Marcus, she figured, looking at the cleaned and stitched wound on her thigh. It was unbound; he was probably letting it breath. The black knots looked weird against the swollen and red skin. She felt like Frankenstein's monster's girl, not Blair Williams Resistance pilot.

Blair pulled up her tank top, getting a good look at her stomach. Barnes had given her a good beating. Purple and red and black bruises dotted her skin in huge splotches. The welts were raised and angry and protested like stinging ants when she touched them. Blair left them alone after a little tentative exploration. She took a deep breath, testing out her ribs. It would suck if any had been broken. Breathing was uncomfortable, but there was no severe debilitating pain that indicated broken or fractured bones.

Blair heaved herself up, hobbling to the edge of the ledge she was on. The city was dark save for the occasional fire that dotted the night. Blair wasn't surprised; the cities were always burning.

"Hey."

She turned. Marcus stood behind her, just inside the shadows. Her heart clenched. The left side of his face had been scorched away, revealing the machine underneath completely. His left eye was no longer completely blue but glinted red, the optics underneath showing through the charred flesh. He looked slightly apprehensive and she realized he was waiting for her reaction. From the look on his face she assumed that he thought it would be a negative one. Well bully to that.

Blair made her way carefully to him, not trusting her wobbly legs to stay upright on the cold concrete. She reached out to touch his face, and ignored his slight flinch away. The metal was warm underneath her fingers like a coin left out in the sun.

"You look like shit," she said, tilting his head gently to get a better look at him.

"They fire bombed the woods after you passed out." Marcus shuffled away from her, dropping the dead body of a malnourished rabbit before the fire.

She slowly sank down to her haunches next to him, watching him skin his furry victim with her knife. "How come I didn't burn?"

"I covered you."

"Ah," Blair snorted, "I knew all those bruises couldn't be from just Barnes. You had to flatten me, fatty."

He chuckled, a deep and throaty noise that surprised both of them. It made her toes curl with the heat of it. Dear god she really was too far gone. He was cute, badass, and now she discovered he had a sexy laugh. _Run fast Marcus Wright, I'll fall in love you if you're not careful,_ she thought.

Marcus pulled the rabbit's skin off, gutted it, and spitted it, all with a quick efficiency that suggested that he was no stranger to hunting. Everyone did what they had to do to survive, but Blair was rotten at hunting living things. Machines? Hell yes. Bambi's forest friends? Not so much.

Blair scooted close to him resting her head on his shoulder. Marcus stiffened, then went back to what he was doing. Damn he was skittish, but he didn't move away from her so Blair stayed where she was.

"Thanks for coming back for me," she said softly.

"Don't mention it."

The fire crackled and popped as juice from the rabbit dripped down into the flames. The ribbons of flames cavorted and twisted together in a sensual dance that had been memorizing people since time began, and Blair was no different. A slight breeze strolled through the camp, batting playfully at the flames. The fire spat back and the breeze moved on to move through her hair, brushing her wavy dark hair from her face.

"Where are we?" Blair asked.

Marcus pulled the rabbit apart and handed her some. "The people I met, the ones who were taken to Skynet. It's their camp. Or was, anyway."

"I'm sorry." Blair munched; the rabbit was overdone and slightly charred, but she was so freaking hungry it didn't matter.

When she finished her portion Marcus handed her another. Blair dug into it, forgoing manners completely. She was halfway through her third helping when she realized he hadn't joined her. She swallowed before she spoke. It was the apocalypse, but even at the end of the world unchewed food in an open mouth was still gross.

"Not hungry?"

Marcus looked almost sad. "No. I haven't been since I woke up."

Blair waved a bit of dead bunny at him. "Try some anyway."

Marcus pulled off a piece with blunt fingernails and stuffed it into his mouth. Blair searched his face while he chewed, hoping that she hadn't poisoned him. Skynet's creations were usually pretty damn resilient, which was why the Resistance was still fighting and not dancing atop the corpses of vanquished machines, but still. Death by rabbit would suck, especially since she would be the one to deliver the deadly morsel.

Marcus's face twisted. "Blech. It's burned."

"Yep," she said cheerfully, mashing the last of her helping into her mouth, "You're cooking sucks, Bobby Flay. Did it make you discover your appetite?"

"Nah," he said "You can have it."

"Yay." Blair hoarded the rest of the rabbit carcass, stripping the meat off of the bones.

Marcus stared at her. "Damn you can put that shit away."

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand primly. "It takes a lot to keep this fine package going."

He grinned at her. "Didn't say I was complainin' though," he said softly.

Blair swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he was. She inched closer to him, drawn like a moth to the flame. Blair had picked up a few romance novels in her day, and most of that love crap was complete bullshit. Here she was, though, getting lost in his clear blue eyes like some sort of hair brained damsel looking for prince fucking charming. Her gaze flicked to his full, lovely mouth. Fuckit. She would never know unless she tried.

Blair leaned in and he pulled back a fraction. Her eyes searched his, questioning. He looked like someone was stabbing him with a poker; his jaw was clenched and something unknown warred behind those blue eyes. He wanted her, and he didn't want her.

"Blair," he ground out, guttural and low, "I am _not_ a good guy. I'm not the man you think I am."

Ah. Back to that again. _Do you believe in second chances? _

She sighed and pulled away from him, hobbling back to her makeshift bed. "What makes you think you're not a good man, Marcus? Lay it out for me. Because you kissed me like you wanted me, and I need to know."

"I was sent to death row for a good reason," he said simply, turning away from her to poke at the fire.

Death row? Holy shit, now there was some demons alright. Blair considered this. She watched his broad back for a long, long time. Marcus kept insisting that he was not a good guy, but a bad guy would not have come back for her. A bad guy would not have risked life and limb for people he barely knew, felt guilt over the things he'd done. Marcus had a conscience. His conscience was what allowed his demons to dog his heels, and a bad man did not have demons.

"I think it's up to me to judge the measure of the man I keep throwing myself at," she said softly, "If I didn't think you were a good man, _a man_ for chrissakes, do you think I'd be here?"

He said nothing merely stared at her, eyes glittering in the firelight and that beautiful full mouth a hard slash across his face.

She sighed again. "Alright, I can take a hint. I'll leave you alone. When you wanna tell me, _if_ you wanna tell me, I'm listening."

Blair curled up on the concrete slab that had served as someone's bed, and now was hers. Homes were not sedentary in the Wasteland. What was one man's hideout one day could be the hideout of someone else the next. She shivered. Her bruised stomach did not want to be curled in on, but it was so fucking cold in the Waste at night. The pallet was stocked with a shabby patchwork quilt and a slightly scorched afghan, but the cold seemed to seep right through to her bones. Her eyes squinched shut and her breathing slowed. She had slept in worse places than this, and if her body did not have sleep she wouldn't be worth anything tomorrow. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and brought her knees up to her chest. Fuck it hurt, but she needed to conserve body heat. The pain would go away after a while. She could deal.

Marcus surprised her by sliding onto the pallet behind her. Blair's eyes almost rolled back in her head when she felt the length of his hard, warm body up against hers. She didn't uncurl, wondering what exactly he was up to after he had shut her down so neatly.

"Easy," he said, his slight accent creeping into his speech, "I just need some body heat."

She snorted. "I've heard that somewhere before."

"I couldn't resist."

She curled into him, "Mmm, if you insist. I'm not gonna fight you off."

"You have cold feet," he muttered.

Blair tug her icy toes under his pant legs and into the tops of his boots. "You shoulda considered that before you took my boots off."

Marcus rested arm over hers, and gave her hand a light squeeze. "Couldn't get your pants off without gettin' rid of your boots."

"Oh god," Blair choked, "Stop it, it hurts to laugh."

She heard him sigh. "I'm sorry," he said low, "I should have never left you."

"It's okay," she squeezed his hand back, "I'll live. Thanks for savin' me. Again."

"I'm gonna have to start charging you."

Blair wiggled further into him. The fire popped and spat a ways behind them, but Blair was toasty warm. Marcus's body was like a furnace. She grinned; she was the warmth vampire that was going to happily suck all his heat out. Her gut still hurt like a bitch, but the heat was making her so damn drowsy, she couldn't keep her eyes open.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the soft noise of the fire and the steady thump of his heart. There was no way she could go back to the Resistance, not after the stunt she'd pulled. Connor and Barnes would have her blacklisted. Blair had no idea what she was going to do. Marcus, well, he probably wasn't going to stick with her. They would rescue his friends in Skynet- somehow, and after that...The man had a mission after all. Whatever drove him, whatever haunted him wasn't going to let him go.

She was going to have to find a new place to belong in the world. With the onset of the apocalypse the world was a big place again. The machines could go anywhere, but that didn't mean that they did. They concentrated on the places where the Resistance steadily held out. She would be able to disappear, and not look back.

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><p>.<p>

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4 LA Revelations

**Author's Note:**_ Basic recap: since Blair drugged Barnes it gave her an Marcus an extra few minutes in the field to get farther than they did in the film. Barnes, instead of talking to Connor, was drugged and therefore a tad pissed off that she nuked him like she did. Catches up with Blair, takes out his anger on her. Instead of sharing that eye contact thing, Marcus comes back for her. They head back to Star and Kyle's old place. So there it is._

**Disclaimer:** _ I own nothing._

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**Chapter 4:** L.A. Revelation

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Blair was very, very surprised to find Marcus still spooned behind her when she woke up the next morning. Not that she was complaining any, his arms held her snug against him, cocooned in a circle of heat that warded off the cold chill of the morning better than any space heater. She knew he was awake; he didn't sleep, at least, not that she had experienced anyway. She didn't want to move, knowing that her body was going to feel like someone had used her for a punching bag when she did. Oh wait, someone had. Groaning, she began the painful process of extracting herself from his arms.

"Fuck," she hissed. Her gut was still sore, but tolerably so. Her thigh, however, felt like someone had taken a rototiller covered in Dave's Insanity Hot Sauce and inserted it into the bullet wound. Blair was no stranger to pain but the surprise of it brought the burn of tears to the back of her eyes.

Marcus eased himself out from around her and gently turned her leg to where he could get a better look at his sutures. Blair closed her eyes against his assault; his touch was very, very gentle but it still hurt like a bitch as he probed at the stitching.

"It's still inflamed and swollen," he said, dark head bent over her thigh.

Blair concentrated on the view of his short hair, trying not to scream as he poked at her. "Yeah well I got shot yesterday."

"I cleaned it with boiled water last night, but- It looks pretty bad," Marcus told her, a frown creasing his forehead in concern.

Blair nodded, lips pursed. Having an infected wound in the Wasteland was basically a death sentence. She willed down her angry tears before they showed, and slowly and painfully used the ivy covered wall to claw herself into a sitting position. Marcus helped her up, sitting behind her, smoothing dark hair away from her face.

"Well, now what?" Blair asked, "I can't help you rescue your buddies like this. I'll only slow you down."

"We take care of you first," Marcus said firmly, tone allowing no argument, and reached for her duffle bag, "You had some bandages left over, but you shouldn't have given your drugs to those dickheads at the track."

"And now hindsight bites me in the ass," Blair muttered. She looked around the small camp hopefully. "Is there anymore rabbit?"

He chuckled. "You ate it all last night."

Blair's stomach growled loudly in the sudden quiet, and she groaned. "Help me up, I'm going to find my pants."

Marcus helped her stand but she refused to let him help her into her jeans. She had her pride after all, and a good looking guy like Marcus Wright helping her into her jeans like an invalid? Oh dear god no. Shimming into her jeans, Blair hobbled around the camp, getting used to walking on her bum leg. It didn't lose its stiffness but she got used to the dull agonizing burn, or rather she stamped it down and refused to give it the time of day.

"I don't think it's a good idea to go back to the track," she said, shrugging on her jacket and tucking her gun into the back of her pants, "Those guys will have sold off the antibiotics I gave them. Shits worth a lot. They wouldn't have kept it."

"I wasn't thinking the track. I was thinking L.A. County General."

Blair stopped her slow walk around the camp and stared at him. "You're joking. The only reason Skynet hasn't trashed the hospitals completely is because there are idiots who still run to them. Skynet culls those aforementioned idiots and they aren't seen again."

Marcus gave her a sad little smile."When I carried you out, I took the river. Your friends had dogs, and it seemed like a good idea at the time."

Her face was white. "Marcus, there are hydrobots in the river," she whispered hoarsely,"The water is full of them."

"I know. I saw them after I pulled us in."

"How did we get past them?" Blair asked, still pale. She had a thing against drowning. Painful, messy, cold and wet. Actually dying in general sucked.

Marcus touched the side of his face, the metal tips of his ruined fingers clinking against the metal plates of his cheek. "They looked at me and just- left us alone."

"Than why am I still here and not floating in fourteen bloody pieces in the river?"

Marcus looked thoughtful. "They hunt in infrared right? That river was fucking cold. I wonder if it coulda lowered your body temperature enough to slide under the radar."

Blair wasn't convinced, but she let the matter drop. They were both alive, and that was what mattered. She would work out the particulars later. Blair absently rubbed her sore thigh, watching the sun's rays batter the haze that hovered in the atmosphere. It was daylight but it wouldn't be sunny with blue skies. Hadn't been for a while. Going into L.A was going to be like running a gauntlet, but they didn't really have a choice. Or at least she didn't. She couldn't go back to the Resistance, but her bullet wound wasn't going to get better on its own.

Marcus shrugged on his jacket, turning up the collar against the chilly morning air. "Let's get moving."

They tromped out of the rubble of the atrium when the sun was well in the sky after stuffing a few supplies in Blair's pack. She'd argued about carrying her own gear, but Marcus had shouldered her pack without her ever touching it. He led the way, moving slow enough for her to follow, holding her hand firmly with his.

Blair watched their joined hands as they walked. Marcus had big hands and his grip was sturdy, acting as a crutch whenever she wobbled.

How had touching him become so easy, so natural? Setting him free seemed to have been the catalyst, and breaking him out of prison and yanking each other through a mine field was a good ice breaker. He had balked at the idea of something more with her, but Blair was happy to have his hands on her even if it was platonic, and even if cold metal alloy was peeking through broken skin.

She nearly tripped again when she put too much weight on her wounded thigh. Like clockwork, her hand gripped his and he held firm as she righted herself. "Thanks," she murmured.

He nodded, and they were off again. It was daylight and harder for the machines to see them, but they still were very careful as they sneaked through the remains of Los Angeles, staying out of sight as best they could. Blair had been to L.A. once as a kid, before the world went to shit, and the city was almost unrecognizable from the place teeming with life it had once been. The desert had done much to reclaim the city and the machines had demolished the rest. Several times they got lost and had to back track, skirt around machines patrolling the city.

It was almost a relief when the remains of L.A. County General loomed up out of the rubble ahead of them. She and Marcus crouched behind the charred chassis of a suburban, eyeing the wide expanse of the parking lot which was now a killing field judging from the motion activated turrets mounted on the hospital roof.

"Those cannons will shoot anything that moves," Blair muttered, watching them, "And I don't have anything to take them out."

"Even if you did, Skynet would send something to investigate what destroyed its toys soon after."

"True."

Blair gave up on crouching after a while, having to lean against Marcus's solid frame or risk falling over. The bullet wound was on fire, shooting threads of pain up and down her leg. She carefully ran a hand over her thigh, wincing. He hooked a arm around her shoulders and she snuggled in to him. Before she knew she was dozing, she was waking with a jolt when her stomach gurgled angrily.

Marcus chuckled. "Again? I fed you an entire rabbit last night!"

"That rabbit was skinny. You'll just have to catch me another one," Blair said and rolled her eyes at him.

"Hey," Marcus sat up, "I just had a thought. I know how to get in."

"Yeah? Care to share with the class?"

"I walk in."

Blair poked him in the head. "Something that doesn't end with you dead, stupid."

"I don't think they'll shoot me," he said, low, "The robots in the river saw me and left me alone. If they're watching me, figuring out what I am, you have a chance to sneak in."

"And_ if_ they shoot you? I don't want to play chance with your life like that," Blair snapped.

"It's my life," Marcus said, "If it can be even called that, and _I'm_ willing to chance it."

Marcus draped his coat around Blair's shoulders, effectively trapping her in its folds. Blair growled at him and fought to escape from the blue fabric but by the time she got out Marcus was halfway across the parking lot. He walked at a slow easy pace, head up and arms down at his sides palms out. His dark shirt hugged his body and the threadbare material did nothing to hide his ruined skin, and the metal endo-skeleton underneath. Blair was memorized by the sight of him striding without fear across the killing field. Broad, powerful body and not a jot of fear in sight. He was gorgeous.

Blair mentally smacked herself. Now was not the time to be leering at his admittedly well proportioned physique.

She skirted the parking lot, staying behind the various large bits of debris, eyes never leaving Marcus. His plan seemed to be working, and even better, neither of them were dead. The turrets stayed focused on Marcus, their red tracking lasers bathing him in an almost demonic hued light. Blair reached the door, huddling in a corner out of range of the turrets, and watched Marcus's final few steps towards her. That machine indifference was stamped all over his face, that absence of feeling, of humanity. Blair hated it, hated that look on him. It made him more of a machine than any metal framework.

Marcus reached her and held out his hand to help her up. To her relief he shot her a crooked grin that warmed her to her toes. Same ol' Marcus.

"See?" he said, "Piece of cake."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Whatever. Your plan was still too risky."

Blair let him heave her to her feet, but she cried out a second later and flushed with shame when her leg refused to support her weight. She crumpled, forcing back surprised tears at the renewed agony flaring up in her bullet wound. She felt like an invalid, useless. Her whole plan had involved breaking him free and helping him with his friends, not getting shot and having to be coddled like a giant baby.

"Fuck," Blair muttered, teeth clenched, "Gimme a minute."

"Bah." Marcus slid one arm under her knees and another around her back and lifted her up to settle against his chest.

Blair curled her arms around his neck. "Sorry. This is not exactly how I planned this rescue to go."

He chuckled. "Better than being strung up back at your base."

Blair tucked herself close to him, eyes peeled for any movement in the darkened hallways of L.A. County General. Things were quiet though, dead silence save for the steady crunch of Marcus's boots on the cracked and filthy linoleum. The interior of the hospital hadn't suffered as much damage as the rest of the city. Blair supposed it was due in both parts to Skynet's influence: the machines didn't level it because it was bait for survivors, and most survivors were culled before they got inside. It was a very, very eerie feeling seeing something that was almost untouched. Save for the layers of filth from years and years of abandonment, the hospital looked almost unscathed.

They passed a help desk with a bulletin board next to it. Crumbling yellow notices were falling off, but some had been laminated and better protected against the ravages of time. A glossy Bon Jovi poster caught her eye, and her heart twinged. Every time she thought she had successfully compartmentalized herself, something came round to bite her in the ass and made her remember what she lost.

"I used to love Bon Jovi," she murmured, breaking the silence, "I went to my first concert with my dad when I was eleven. _Wanted Dead or Alive_ was my theme song, I sang it so much my dad must have been sick of it, but he always put up with my shitty singing and sang it with me."

"You miss him."

"Every damn day," she growled, "I'll think it's gone away, that I've finally convinced myself that I'm done caring, but then-"

"Something jogs your memory," he said softly.

Marcus carried her to the emergency room and set her down on a gurney. The cracked dirty plastic creaked under her butt, and Blair hoped dearly that the whole thing wouldn't collapse under her weight. She wasn't a lard ass by any means, the apocalypse didn't allow for fatties, but she did like her meals whenever she could get them.

"Does that happen to you?" Blair asked, hoping she didn't sound desperate, but needing to alleviate some of the pain of loss.

"Yeah."

She couldn't see his face, his back was to her as he rooted around in cabinets, but she could see his white knuckled hands and the tension in his broad shoulders. She'd struck a nerve. Blair wasn't dumb, she knew she'd accidentally dug up a painful subject, so she shut her mouth. Her shoulders drooped a fraction. She hadn't intended to cause any pain, she'd only searched for a kindred spirit, something to alleviate the ghosts of past memories. She should have known better.

"My brother." Marcus's voice was a quiet rumble in the dark. "He died when it shoulda been me."

Blair stayed quiet as he shuffled back over to her gurney. Marcus pulled a banged up Coleman lamp from her pack and switched it on. The white glow brought out the haggardness in both their faces. He set a squat brown bottle of peroxide next to her and helped her shimmy out of her pants. Blair found herself wishing that she had on nicer undies but if he thought anything of her grey military issue underwear, he said nothing. There were no cotton balls. Instead Marcus poured the contents straight over her wound. Blair wanted to scream, but forced it back. It was good pain; peroxide hurt like a mother but at least it was doing its job.

"You shouldn't have saved me," he said, "I don't deserve a second chance."

Blair caught his chin, forced those blue eyes to stare into hers. "Everyone deserves a second chance," she ground out, "Before Judgement Day, I was the shit street kid no one wanted. In and out of foster homes. I spent more time in Juvie than I did anywhere else. No one was willing to take a chance on the half breed Navajo girl that kept getting in fights."

Marcus kept quiet, cleaning and bandaging her bullet wound with sure and gentle fingers, but she knew he was listening.

"And then," Blair murmured, lost in her memories, "I broke into the wrong shop. My dad was a scary fucker. Airline mechanic, and he had arms bigger than Barnes's brother's. I remember thinking I was going to die when he found me with that freaking wrench in his hand. He told me my ass was too skinny, fed me dinner, and took me back to the foster house I was at."

Marcus skillfully pinned her dressing in place and helped her back into her clothes. She couldn't bend over to tie her own boots so she blushed right up into her hairline when he squatted without complaint and did that too.

"He adopted me, gave me a home, a chance that I didn't ever think I would ever get. Taught me to fly. So yes, Marcus Wright, _everyone_ deserves a fucking second chance," she snarled.

He looted the cabinets in silence, pulling bottles of painkillers, antibiotics, extra tape, gauze thread, anything that wasn't nailed down and stuffing them into her pack. He shrugged the considerably weightier pack onto his shoulders, and helped her off the gurney. She blushed pinker when he didn't set her down, but instead went back to carrying her. She wound her arms around his neck without complaint though. He was big and warm and secure, and she was so fucking comfortable. Comfort was a rare thing indeed in the Wasteland, especially when there was someone to share it with. She would take what she could get.

"Is that why you put paint on your face?" he asked.

She nodded. "So I never forget where I came from, but I took his name so I never forget who brought me here."

"As if you ever could, though."

"As if I ever could," she agreed.

He was quiet for so long she thought the conversation was over. When he finally spoke, she jumped a little. "I was born in Australia, in 1975."

"Hah!" she muttered, "I knew I detected an accent."

He chuckled. "Didja now?"

"Yep, my money was on either Australia or New Zealand. Win for me."

"We came over on a green card when I was twelve. Parents wanted a fresh start," Marcus said, "My brother an me stuck together and for a while it worked out okay."

Blair wanted to thread her hands into his short brown hair, touch him, do _something_ to help take away that note in his voice that suggested he was peeling away painful memories like someone ripping a scab off of an old wound. Her hands clenched. He wasn't hers. She couldn't touch him, not when everything about this moment was so serious. So instead she listened; it was all she could do.

"There was an accident. My parents died, and my brother and I ended up on the street. One thing led to another, and a lifetime of bad choices later, my brother and two cops are dead because of me and I'm on death row."

"How did you end up here?" Blair asked softly.

His mouth quirked in a humorless smile. "Signed my body over to Dr. Doom. Didn't think I'd be around to see what she did with it."

"Well," she murmured, "I'm glad I got to meet you, Marcus Wright."

He snorted. "Still believe in second chances?"

She slapped the back of his dead. "Stop that self depreciating bullshit. We all have shit in our pasts that we do our best to bury. Believe me, I know. I've been there. So quite putting yourself down, or I'll go find a large magnet or something to torture you with until you agree with me and see the light."

"You think you're funny," he said, giving her a playful squeeze.

"I'm hilarious," she shot back.

"Neither of you are funny. And play time is over."

Blair froze in Marcus's arms. John Connor stood silhouetted in the hospital entrance in full combat gear holding a plasma rifle, Barnes a step behind him. Blair swallowed. Neither of them looked happy. She had a feeling that she and Marcus were really and truly fucked.

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_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5 Regroup

**Author's Note**: _Thanks for the reviews guys! They mean a lot! Also, I put in a few lines from the movie, even though I'm taking a different direction in this story. I figure it's sentiments that would have been expressed no matter what happened._

**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing._

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**Chapter 5:** Regroup

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Blair's arms reflexively tightened around Marcus's neck. They were in such deep shit, according to the matching glowers being directed their way by Connor and Barnes. Marcus gave her a quick squeeze, and Blair debated for a moment going for her sidearm. The thought was gone as quick as it flitted into her mind; there was no way she was going to shoot John Connor. He was too important. Blair couldn't see her and Marcus reasoning their way out of this, though. She had betrayed the Resistance, plain and simple, by breaking Marcus out, and he was a machine boot. It was black and white, there was no gray area.

Connor rocked back on his heels, looking at them contemplatively. "What am I going to do with you?" he muttered, more to himself than to any of them.

Even though it was obviously a rhetorical question, Marcus obviously couldn't resist a retort. "Let us walk outta here."

"Well you're walking, I'm hitching a ride," Blair reminded him, wondering where the hell they were getting their bluster. Both of them had decided to act as though they weren't walking a fine line between talking their way out and getting shot full of holes. Personally Blair thought that there wasn't anything that was going to keep them from being shot, no matter how witty they were.

Barnes snorted like he agreed with her line of thought but didn't say anything, and Connor rolled his eyes.

"The jury is still out on that," Connor said softly, "Let's talk about Kyle Reese while I think about it."

Blair felt Marcus stiffen.

"What do you wanna know?" Marcus growled. "The Harvester snapped them up. I went to you to ask for help rescuin' them. You fucked that up pretty good, what makes you think I wanna talk about Reese now?"

"Because if what you say is true, that Skynet does have him," Connor said, "Then I will do whatever it takes to save him and the rest of the prisoners interred at Central."

Marcus grunted rudely, but didn't say anything to disparage this.

Blair studied her leader's and Barnes's steady hands on their weapons and realized that while she didn't know what exactly she was going to do, or what was going to happen, hurting John Connor was out of the question. At any rate, she felt better standing on her own two feet.

She swept a thumb across the nape of Marcus's neck, and swallowed a grin when she felt him shiver. "Put me down," she murmured, "Please."

Marcus never dropped his testosterone fueled male staring contest with Connor, but he helped her ease down to stand wobbily on her one good leg. Blair found herself pitching sideways when she tested out her bad leg. Only Marcus's quick hand and her gripping the back of his pants kept her face from getting an up close and personal view of the dirty linoleum floor. Blair found her balance, somewhere, and managed to bear her own weight without too much help from Marcus. Well, help from him meant hooking her fingers through his belt loop and pockets of his cargo pants to keep herself steady.

She realized that she was essentially holding herself up by gooching his backside, and that it probably looked incredibly silly. Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat, and she squelched it before it got out. If someone had told her a few weeks ago that she would be grabbing a Terminator Infiltrator's ass while the Leader of the Resistance levied a gun at her, she probably would have punched them. Yet here she was, hands planted firmly on Marcus Wright's bottom and Connor and Barnes were ready to kill them both.

Marcus didn't seem to mind, however, even though this wasn't really the time and place for such an argument.

"Let us go," Marcus repeated, "We're no threat to you."

"I beg to differ," Connor said, "How did you get in here, exactly? It would have taken several platoons of men to even breach a facility like this, and you just walked in."

"And those men wouldn't walk out alive," Barnes added.

Blair wobbled again, and Marcus steadied her. When she finally was able to stand without the floor behaving like a tilt-a-whirl, he eased himself in front of her, managing to make the move look entirely unintentional but he was still obviously between her and a plasma burst.

"Does it matter?" Marcus muttered.

"Yes," Connor said in a guttural growl, "It does." Connor reached into his pocket and withdrew a battered eye sensor from a T-600. He held it up, the dirty metal catching the light from the halogen lamps.

"Because they know what you are, even if you don't," Connor snapped, tossing the eye down to roll across the no man's land between them like a creepy marble.

At this, Blair couldn't help but drop her gaze to expanse of Marcus's broad back. She had never gotten a good look at the damage he had suffered, Marcus had always kept it hidden under his ratty blue trench coat or had scuttled away from her scrutiny before she could corner him. A few ragged tatters of shirt and flesh were all that stood between his exposed exoskeleton and her naked gaze. Looking at his armored back, the Skynet alloy that protected him in a macabre imitation of the human form, she had an epiphany. She had known that Marcus wasn't exactly human, but damn, underneath the surface of a man, Marcus Wright was a fucking _tank_.

A slight smile ghosted across her face. Connor and Barnes would probably disagree with her, but she was glad he was so durable. For some reason, she couldn't stand the idea of him being hurt.

His spine was overlaid in armored plating and she couldn't resist touching it, noting his slight shiver as she did so. Even if the world had dressed him up like an unfeeling machine, he still responded like a man at her touch. Marcus cleared his throat and reached behind him, capturing her questing hand in his larger, calloused one. Blair's cheeks burned. Shut down, _again_. Good God, what was wrong with her? She kept throwing herself at him like yesterday's trash.

Connor saw their joined hands and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Even though common sense screams that all kinds of things will probably go wrong, I don't have anything to lose."

That stopped Blair's thoughts in their mental track. She stared at her leader. "What?" Marcus voiced her thoughts exactly.

"Command has decided to take out Skynet Central, regardless of the presence of hundreds of human prisoners," Connor said quietly.

"They can't do that!" Blair snarled.

Barnes snorted. "Most folks feel that way."

"We need to rescue those people," Connor said, "Whatever the cost, or else what has been sacrificed and lost up until now will be meaningless."

"And you think I can get you in," Marcus finished.

"Yes," Connor said.

Marcus did not hesitate. "I'll do it."

At that, Blair gently withdrew her hand from his, hobbling backward to support herself against the wall. "Marcus," she said quietly, ignoring Connor's frown and Barnes's glower, "You do this, you probably won't come back. You don't have to prove anything."

His blue eyes were a little sad when he looked at her and a muscle worked in his jaw. "Yes," he said,"I do. Everyone deserves a second chance. You said so yourself, remember? I have to try to make things right."

She looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "Not when it means sacrificing yourself," she muttered.

"Blair-"

She dodges his hand, forcing her thigh to behave itself and bear her weight. She did_ not_ want his pity. "It's okay, I get it." Blair came to stand in front of her boss, chin up even though she knew she had no cred with Connor anymore. "I'm coming with you, sir."

Connor looked amused and he crossed his arms. "My wife would kick my ass if I let you do that. You can barely walk."

Blair chuckled in spite of herself. The thought of Kate Connor, almost eight months pregnant, kicking anything's ass was hilarious. "With all due respect, sir, I went AWOL. Until you can drag me back to base for a court marshaling, I'm not going to listen to you. And I'm guessing that the only men you brought with you were the ones that would side with you over Command's orders. I may not be able to rush a line, but I can still fly and I'm one of your best snipers. You need me, sir. "

Connor sighed. "Fine." He bent close to her, their faces inches apart. "But this is because I do need you, and your skills. Betray me again, and I'll realize how much I don't need them. You will be gone, understand me?"

Blair nodded.

"Good." Connor gestured towards the doors. "We move out."

Marcus made to pick her back up but Blair shook him off with a small smile. "I got it, thanks."

Marcus had a look on his face that suggested that he clearly thought she was full of shit, but he nodded. She gritted her teeth and hobbled the last five feet to the hospital doors. It felt like five miles.

The cold sunlight blinded her and she shaded her eyes with her hand. She'd been right about Connor needing her; two men guarded the outside, only two, and they didn't look pleased to be there. The hospitals were well known for their killing field nickname, and they knew it. Blair shook her head, and began to follow Connor.

"Hold up," Barnes said.

She stopped, getting her balance, and wondered what the hell was going to happen now. She watched him, uncertain. She didn't think Barnes would want to get her back for tranqing him, but then again she did just that, and Marcus did knock him out. Her eyes flicked around, looking for an out if she needed it. Marcus was lurking nearby a little too obviously and a smile tugged at her mouth. She made sure to wipe it off though, before she turned back to Barnes.

"Yeah?" Blair asked.

"Here." Barnes thrust a sturdy stick at her and she took it, turning it over in her hands.

Blair looked up at him. Barnes had hacked off all of stick's prickly branches off with a knife, stripping the bark, making the wood smooth; he'd probably been at it the entire time he and Connor had been tracking them. He'd fashioned her a makeshift freaking _cane_. It was as good an apology as she was going to get.

"I might have been overreacting when I detained you," he muttered, not looking at her.

Blair put her weight on the end and walked a few paces. It made walking a good deal easier. She looked back at him. "You and Connor had this planned all along, didn't you?"

Barnes caught up with her, catching her shoulder and squeezing to the point of near pain but not quite crossing the threshold. She gritted her teeth and didn't make a sound. Marcus drifted closer to them, red optics behind his human eyes catching the light and glowing ominously.

"I ain't done," he whispered. Barnes jerked his chin at Connor, who was standing a ways away from them and going over a field map with his sentries. "See that man?"

She nodded, knowing exactly where he was going with this.

"Without him, we're fucked," Barnes said simply, "Humanity is fucked. You know it. I know it. Connor would simply run you out, but I'll kill you. Sell him out for an aluminum tin can again I will put a bullet in your brain stem."

Barnes let her go and she stumbled back into the hard wall of Marcus's body, who steadied her with a considerably gentler hand. Both men glared at each other before Barnes moved off stiffly to rejoin Connor.

"You alright?" Marcus asked, low.

She snorted and waggled her new cane at him. "Peachy."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

Blair stared after Barnes who was now peering over Connor's shoulder, pointing something out on the map. She sighed. "His way of saying sorry."

"Weird way of apologizing to someone."

Blair shrugged. In her opinion, she deserved a lot worse, so she wasn't complaining. "Least you don't have to play pack horse anymore," she said smiling.

He reached out and tugged gently on one of her wild brown curls. "Wasn't a bad job."

His gaze held her captive and he was so, so deliciously close. She swallowed. "Marcus-"

"Move out!" Connor called.

Just like that, the moment was broken. She saw the moment in his eyes that he remembered what he was, and that he wasn't supposed to care. He dropped his hand, and she stepped away from him.

"Blair," he whispered hoarsely, "I'm sorry, I _can't_-"

"Save it," she said simply, "I don't want your pity."

Marcus clenched his fists. "It is_ not_ pity. I just- can't."

Blair shrugged, feeling oddly numb and cavalier about the whole thing. Somewhere in her chest it felt like her heart was breaking, but she refused to acknowledge the stupid thing. "It's okay. I get it." She smiled at him, aware that it was more of a pained mask rather than an actual smile. "C'mon."

"Why are you doing this?" Marcus asked, "Why are you still here?"

Blair stopped. "What do you mean?"

"You're wounded, a liability. You're just gonna get yourself killed. You can go back, Connor let you back into the fold. Go back to your base where it's safe."

"What I told Connor was the truth," Blair said simply, trying to mask the fact that he was brutally squeezing her heart into a ball. "He needs me. Besides, it's the fucking robot apocalypse. No one is safe."

"I should _drag_ you back to your damn base," Marcus muttered, more to himself than to her.

Blair patted him on the shoulder. "I'd like to see you try, Princess. C'mon, Connor's waiting."

Marcus rolled his eyes and they rejoined the group.

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_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6 The Deal

**Author's Note: **_Thanks for the feedback guys! Two more chapters and this fic will be at an end, thanks to all who have read, reviewed, and liked it! _

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing, not the characters nor the iconic movie quotes I borrowed._

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_**Chapter 6: **The Deal_

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Blair and Connor sat hunkered down in the remnants of a rusted out Humvee, waiting for the twilight to fade to dark. They were a few miles outside the reach of Skynet's scanners but still had a long cold wait ahead of them. The desert was darkening, save for brightening lights of Skynet Central casting an erie glow on the heavy clouds. Barnes and the rest of the team had left them, albeit very reluctantly, some hours before with orders to monitor the situation and bring reinforcements if and when they were needed.

Blair clutched the M24 sniper rifle in her hands, and remembered the furious, tense look on Barnes' face.

"Don't let him down," he had said, half begging and half threatening.

She'd nodded without saying anything. She didn't intend to let John Connor down. No matter what shit storm they walked into, John Connor was going to walk back out again with his life intact no matter what sacrifice it took from her.

Blair stared hard into the dim twilight.

Marcus had disappeared out of sight a while ago, but she still looked, hoping that she might catch one last glimpse of him silhouetted against the darkening desert sky. It would probably be her last one.

"Why did you do it?" Connor asked.

Blair jerked in surprise, very nearly forgetting he was sitting right next to her. Then she chastised herself. It was stupid for allowing her feelings to get the best of her. Blair knew better than anyone that forgetting that it was the end of the world was basically a death wish. The events at the race track had taught her that much, or at least cemented the fact that the world was no longer a friendly place.

Connor cleared his throat. Oh, right, he had asked her a question.

Conner chose to ignore her sad lack of attention. He did not move to look at her, or elaborate, just continued to stare at the distant lights of Skynet Central. She didn't have to ask him what he meant; they both knew what he was talking about: her betrayal of her human base for Skynet's golden boy.

Blair considered her answer. She had time, after all. Marcus wouldn't make his move into Skynet until full dark. The plan was much like their hospital one: he'd walk in and hopefully be able to open the front door for them.

"I didn't see a machine hanging in our basement," she said softly, "I saw a man."

Connor considered this. "Explain."

Blair glanced at him and was surprised to see that he wasn't the least bit sarcastic; he was genuinely curious as to what had led her to jeopardize their entire base.

Blair wondered that herself, and then decided that she had better be honest with him, as well as to herself. Her recognizing her feelings wasn't a good excuse at all for her betrayal, but at least it was the truth.

"I love him," she admitted softly, her words barely audible to her own ears.

Connor still heard her, and he snorted. "You took a big risk- gambled every single life on our base for a feeling."

"I know," Blair said fiercely, "And I know it doesn't mean anything, but I did memorize the initial schematics Kate downloaded before he was strung up. I would have deactivated him."

"He would have killed you," Connor said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather.

Blair nodded. "But not before I got him too."

"At least you didn't go in there all googly eyed and dreaming of happily ever after."

She rolled her eyes and snorted. "It's the robot apocalypse. There is no happily ever after for any of us."

"That," Connor said with an almost manic softness, staring out at the glow of Skynet, "Is what I am trying to change."

Blair glanced at him and the dogged, almost ferocious determination on his face once again reminded her why anyone who met him threw their entire support and belief on him, forgoing all else to follow him blindly. Connor cared and believed so strongly that humanity would defeat the machines, and it was infectious. Blair was glad that her and the rest of humanity's faith was not misplaced.

Connor's watch beeped softly and they both looked down at the dim LED screen.

Connor's usual rasp was very, very quiet. "Time to go."

Blair nodded, grasp tightening on her sniper rifle. The plan was that she would follow him to the ridge and then set up her position in order to lay down any necessary cover fire should he need to get out fast. Then, if he gave the all clear, she would follow him in. They would liberate any human prisoners they could find, special priority to a boy named Kyle Reese.

Connor kept his reasons for doing what he did private. The man was an enigma wrapped in a mystery. His missions often didn't make sense until they were done, and Blair figured whoever Kyle was, Connor had a good reason for needing to get to him. There were whispers about time travel, why Connor somehow knew things would happen before they actually happened, but she didn't care. Blair trusted her leader and knew better than to ask.

Her leg gave a painful twinge, but she ignored it. Connor had given her some Advil before they left the hospital, and she would be good for a while. The painkillers didn't fully suppress the pain in her leg, but they wouldn't hinder her ability to fight either. Sacrifices sucked. What she wouldn't give for some morphine.

Blair flattened out on her belly and set up the targeting computer next to her.

She didn't have a spotter, so the little device would take wind speed and distance for her so she could make clean shots. The butt of the gun fit against her shoulder and she sighted down the scope, following Connor's tiny form as he loped across the no man's land towards Skynet Central.

He flattened up against the high steel wall protecting Skynet, and she scanned the wasteland around him searching for threats. Nothing moved except the occasional tumbleweed.

All was clear, Marcus must have got inside safely and done what he came to do.

She hoped anyway.

Blair breathed a sigh of relief when her comlink beeped quietly, signifying Connor's all clear. She stashed her targeting computer and folded the sniper rifle's bipod up against the barrel before slinging the gun onto her back.

Hobbling down the hill was a bitch, making her way to Connor as quickly and as quietly as she could. So far, so good. Her leg hadn't given out yet.

"The outer and inner defenses are down," Connor whispered when she got to him, "Marcus came through."

Blair shivered. "It feels too good to be true."

He checked the magazine in his M4 and nodded. "Agreed. We proceed with caution. Hand signals only."

They crept into the depths of Skynet Central, eyes peeled for trouble and nerves running high. The machine base was oddly dormant. The only things moving seemed to be standard automatic functions, minor programs that posed no dangerous threat. Marcus had apparently done what he had set out to do but the area was eerily quiet. The factory assembly robots they passed had no higher intelligence other than the jobs they were programmed for. Blair still hated watching them. She half expected the assembly robots to pull out plasma attachments and start shooting at them. There were no signs of human life, but Blair supposed that Skynet wouldn't want to encourage any potential rescue operations. The prisoners, if there were any, would be much deeper.

One thing Blair noticed as they went along, was that the facilities around them were changing. The outer shell that Skynet presented was rusted and ill kept, but the deeper they went into the base the cleaner and sleeker everything appeared.

She rubbed at her shabby combat pants and when she glanced behind them, saw that hers and Connor's boot treads had tracked dirt and scum in from the wasteland, leaving clear marks on the shiny white floor.

"Connor-" she began, low.

"I know." He ran a sun browned finger along one of the access terminals on the wall. "They've hidden their true face from us well."

"We'll have to jack into the computer eventually, to find the prisoner locations," Blair said.

Connor shook his head. "Marcus sent that information to me when he shut down security."

She hesitated. "Where is Marcus?"

"I don't know. He jacked in, shut everything down, then the connection was lost."

Blair didn't insist that they drop everything to find Marcus. She knew better. Still, icy fingers of dread clawed up her spine and caused cold sweat to break out on her skin. She swore then and there that once she saw Connor and the prisoners out of Skynet Central, she would rescue Marcus. Whatever it took, she was not going to leave him here. Her personal warm and fuzzy feelings aside, Blair never left a man behind. Even if that man happened to have metal for bones.

"How much farther?" she asked instead.

"Take a lift down a few levels," Connor replied tersely, heading for the industrial elevator, "And we'll be there."

Blair hated the lift.

There was nothing to do but stand there and wait for it to stop. They were exposed. Open. The camera in the ceiling corner had no red light, and appeared to be off, but Blair still felt like a bug under a microscope.

They doors opened, and for a split second Connor and Blair flattened up against the wall in surprise.

The prisoner area was pandemonium.

Apparently when Marcus got into the system, he not only shut off security and mapped their way through Skynet Central, but he opened all the doors to the prisoner cells as well. Connor immediately snapped into what he did best: charismatic leadership that tolerated no bullshit and squelched panic like a bug.

"Everyone listen up!" he bellowed, voice raised over the terrified shouts, "Take the elevators to the surface! Help will be on the way. Skynet won't be down for long, get out while you can!"

People stopped and the whispers began:_ '...That's Connor. John Connor...We're safe...'_ Blair's heart went out to them. Skynet had pounded the fear of gunshots and laser blasts into them, turning them into frightened sheep. It was horrible, but necessary. They had been trampling each other in their hurry to get out.

"See these people to safety, Williams," Connor said.

Blair nodded and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Alright, first batch is away. I want single file lines, women and children first, then able bodied men. The lift can hold thirty at a time. Takes about fifty seconds to get to the surface. Won't be long til you're all out of here. Caprice?"

Connor clapped her shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze before heading off down the forming line of people shouting, "Reese! Kyle Reese!"

Alarms began to sound. The lights flickered.

Well that wasn't good. Blair swallowed and strode to a computer, jacking into the terminal.

Out of her peripheral she could see that while the frightened prisoners had certainly picked up the pace, no one was being trampled anymore. Some men and women had even grabbed whatever they could find to use as a weapon, and guarded the main body.

Blair studied the computer screen and chewed her lip. Weird. From what she could tell, even though things seemed to be going haywire, Skynet's main defenses still appeared to be down. What the hell was going on? Where were the troops? Then the terminal sparked and a large glaring red 'Access Denied' message popped up onto the screen. Not good, not good at all.

Off in the distance, she could hear Connor shouting and then gunfire. Blair hefted her sniper rifle. Connor had ordered her to guard the prisoners, but her main duty was to Connor himself. If he died, none of this would be worth it.

"Listen to me. You are not animals," Blair shouted at the fleeing people, "Don't let Skynet turn you into them. Help each other to safety. Stay strong and you'll make it out."

With that she set off after Connor as fast as her wounded leg could carry her.

She popped more painkillers, which helped things considerably. She refused to think about the damage all of the drugs was going to do to her later. Hopefully Kate could purge her if she made it back to base, but in the meantime, she had to protect Connor. She was no good to him as a sniveling pain filled pile of goo. Rounding a corner, Blair nearly collided with a teenage boy and a little girl with frizzy, flyaway hair.

"Where's Connor?!" she shouted, loud enough to be heard over the din.

"Down a level," the boy shouted back, "We ran into a new kind of Terminator!"

Shit. "Get to the lifts!" Blair said simply, and moved on eyes peeled for trouble.

She barely had enough firepower to take down a T-600, and that's only if she was dead on in her shooting. Skynet already had a new model? Oh dear God. What would this next one do? A little voice at the back of her mind whispered that maybe it was Marcus, that he'd been a true machine all along, but she squelched it. There had to be something else. Either way, she was up shit creek without a paddle.

Blair took another lift down to what appeared to be a maintenance level. She was out of the holding pens and the Spartan clean of the Skynet labs.

This had to be one of the main factories where Skynet mass produced its hellish infantry. She rounded a corner and was met with the site of a battered Connor crouching over an unconscious Marcus, using a sparking electrical cable to shock the inert cyborg's chest. A small part of Blair's brain noted that his skin was whole again, perfect and unblemished. With each dose of high voltage Marcus's body spasmed, then stilled. Connor shouted, frustrated, and smashed his fist into Marcus's chest.

Marcus gasped and his blue eyes popped wide open.

Relief flooded her.

Then her heart clenched, because she had seen the monstrous shape looming up over Connor's exposed back clutching a rebar. It was humanoid, solid gleaming metal, and massive. Skynet's next model. Blair screamed, yelling, anything to draw its attention. It worked. The Terminator's red eyes flicked up at her for a split second and she took that opportunity to aim and fire. Blair walked steadily forward, M24 firing .300 caliber round after round into the Terminator. She fired in a wide spread, targeting everything. This was a new model with whose systems she was not at all familiar with. She fired at previous known vulnerable spots as well as anything that looked like it might be important.

It was no good.

The Terminator was forced back a few steps, but soon her gun clicked empty. It didn't even go for her because she was the most threatening thing standing; it turned back to Connor, raising the rebar. Her heart froze as her brain acknowledged the truth. The new Terminator wasn't interested in her because Connor was the true target. Conner was going to die; she'd failed to protect him.

Dammit, she would _not_ fail.

Blair threw down the now useless rifle, and forced herself into an agonized sprint as the rebar came crashing down. Marcus shouted something unintelligible but Blair didn't stop to try and figure it out. Her mind tuned out the white pain from her thigh. Bile filled her mouth, and she clenched her teeth. Faster, faster.

Blair smashed into the Terminator as the rebar punched through Connor's back to impale the floor in front of him in a shower of blood. Connor screamed.

She put the Terminator into a choke hold, trying fruitlessly to wrench it off of her leader.

The Terminator reached around as though she were an annoying gnat that were barely worth its effort, grasped her by the upper arm, and twisted her off. Bones snapped. Even though she was numbed by all the painkillers she'd taken, the fresh agony of breaking bones cut through the opiate haze. The Terminator flung her like a rag doll and she crashed into a metal assembly table. Blair heard something crunch, and knew that she'd broken something else. She tried to get up as the Terminator looked back down at Connor, but her battered body refused to move.

While the Terminator had been busy with her, Marcus had yanked the rebar from Connor's back.

He rammed it through the Terminator's neck, cranking the bar around. The Terminator grappled with him, metal hands tearing strips out of his fragile human shell, but Marcus twisted the rebar until the Terminator's metal skull sparked and flew off, bouncing into a corner. Those demonic red eyes flickered and dimmed.

Blair could feel the sweet dark of unconscious threatening to pull her under and for a moment she contemplated trying to stand, but then gave up. She was done. Skynet was beat, their trump card had just got its head popped off like a chrome plated dandelion. Connor said something, but her tired brain didn't process it over the fog of pain. At least he was still alive, and Marcus was safe and in one piece. More or less. Connor would see him protected. He was still Marcus, and not a cold unfeeling robot. They won; it was over. She was so tired.

Blair allowed herself to sink into dark oblivion, embracing it like an old friend.

Hands grasped her under the arms, pulling her up, and a fresh wave of pain shocked her into back into consciousness.

Blair screamed, and her head lolled against Marcus's chest. "Easy." He drew her up and her legs buckled. "Get up, Blair."

The arm the Terminator had virtually shattered hung limp at her side. She tried, she really did. Blair used her good arm to brace against his shoulder, but after a second's struggle her legs buckled again. Marcus pulled her against him and she pushed her face into his neck.

"C'mon," her murmured into her hair, "Not gonna leave you here, so don't even lay there and pretend like I am. On your feet, soldier."

"Everything hurts," she whispered.

"I know," he said, steadying her, "Grit your teeth. We're getting out of here. I'm not spending another second in this shithole."

"Would one of you jackasses come over and help me up?" Connor said weakly, "When you're finished with your moment."

"Quit twistin' yer panties," Marcus called back, "I'll b' there ina minute."

Somehow, Blair's libido managed to crowd aside the overwhelming pain for a split second and cheer at his admittedly adorable hint of an Aussie accent.

Marcus looped Blair's good arm through his and heaved her up, bearing the majority of her weight and acting like a crutch so that she could hop along on her least abused leg. It was hard to tell at this point which one it actually was. Bullet wound aside, the Terminator had trashed her pretty good.

"Ugh," Blair muttered, "I'm a mess."

Marcus kissed her temple, quick and fierce. "You're alive. Alive is sexy."

She snorted.

"I think you both suck. C'mon, we have to get out of here." Connor had pushed himself up into a sitting position, but his face was chalk white and blood spread in a growing dark stain on his cameo jacket. Marcus pulled Connor up, and Connor slung an arm around his neck.

"Wait," Connor said, trying to yank away from Marcus's grasp, "The detonator!"

"Leave it," Marcus said, shaking his head. "This is one base and not worth your life. There will be others."

Connor still protested weakly, but Marcus wouldn't budge and dragged both his charges to the elevator. Connor struggled but it was impossible to out muscle a cyborg, even if one hadn't been used as a human cork board by a killer machine. If Blair had any fight left in her she would have agreed. At least Connor was alive. They would get him back to base and fix him up, and he would live to deal Skynet an explosive blow another day. Hell, just by being alive they'd dealt a heavy hit.

Marcus supported both battered Resistance fighters and together they fled the base.

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_To be continued..._


	7. The Heart of the Matter

**Author's Note: **_Thanks for the feedback guys! By the way, I went back through the last chapter and corrected all of the (many) mistakes that I found. So, If you wanna give it a quick peruse to be sure that I got them all, that would be awesome. Drop me a line if you see anything I missed, thanks!_

_On another note, I have discovered more stories that I love that ffdotnet has gotten rid of. That makes me so, so mad. I'm going to start backing up my favorites, because that 'M' rule is silly. I was originally going to include sexytime in this chapter, but now I'm not so sure. What do you guys think? I wrote it out, watered down as it is to hopefully slide in under the radar, but I don't want to upset anyone. If there are any objections I won't do it, but if y'all are for it, I'll replace this chapter with the one with the extra content._

_On that note, this concludes this story. I may add an epilogue later but for all intents and purposes this story is at an end. Thank you all for the thoughts and wishes and input! You guys are awesome!_

_Please read and review!_

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing._

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**Chapter 7: **The Heart of the Matter

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Blair sat between Marcus's knees, her head propped up against his shoulder. The Resistance helicopter rattled beneath them, the vibration nearly lulling her into a daze. Kate had given her morphine for the pain and set her bones, and now Blair was only awake through sheer will.

Conner lay opposite them with his head in Kate's lap, and a very worried Barnes hovering nearby. A field medic had taken over for Kate once she had done all she could to stabilize her husband. Now she sat bent over Connor, her red hair falling in a curly red mop around them, hands gently cupping his face. His eyes looked up at her, never leaving hers. The detonator sat loosely in his hand, almost forgotten.

A pressure wave from another explosion rocked the helicopter. One more part of Skynet Central heaved and blossomed into a great angry orange and yellow fireball. Black smoke billowed into the atmosphere, coating the sky like dirty velvet. Another pressure wave hit them. The helicopter shook like it was going to come apart.

Blair was in no danger of falling out, and she had made her peace a long time ago with the knowledge that she would probably die a fiery death in some sort of aircraft, but still her hand snaked down to grasp Marcus's. His metal joints were a surprise to both of them. Blair had forgotten that he had burned the skin off of his hand and apparently so had he. To her delight though he didn't pull away. The metal quickly warmed under her touch like a heater. Almost sheepishly, his fingers curled around hers. Blair wanted to kiss him, but she figured in her drugged state she would probably miss.

He bent close. "How are you even still awake?"

The morphine was doing a spectacular job at suppressing the pain, and quite frankly Blair was astonished that she wasn't a drooling vegetable. All of the shit she'd pumped into her system in the last twenty four hours in order to keep functioning had to have killed at least a few brain cells.

"Dunno. You're pretty," she muttered, unable to muster up anymore than that. Her mouth wouldn't articulate what her brain wanted it to. What came out was gibberish.

"You are as high as a kite, luv," he told her cheerfully, smoothing back a few strands of wild dark hair.

"Shaddup, buttface."

"Go to sleep," Marcus said, "It'll do you good."

Blair pulled back a little so that her head was resting in the crook of his arm, to see his face. "You'll be here when I wake up?"

A small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. "Yea. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Across the way, Barnes made a rude noise of disgust. Blair stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned back at her. He still gave her shit for the way she felt about Marcus, but her very nearly dying for Connor had cleaned the slate between them. Blair was just glad they were cool again. If she had to make the choice she would save Marcus all over again, but she hated being on the outs with her comrades.

Marcus ran his warm, human hand over her hair while his metal one loosely held hers. And like that, Blair finally gave in to the greedy clutches of unconscious morphine induced sleep.

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She woke up when they landed.

The helicopter set down in the nearest safe zone and Connor was whisked into surgery. Kate assisted the cardiac surgeon, refusing to be separated from her husband. Luckily her field expertise granted her a place in the surgery. Blair was regulated to one of the plain field hospital tents surrounding the main surgery in order to get checked out. She wasn't looking forward to it. Blair knew her body was a mess and the healing process was going to be a bitch.

Marcus carried her from the helicopter, and Barnes, who had been barred from the surgery along with Reese and Star, trailed along after.

Her x-rays revealed a shattered humorous, several broken fingers, and a slight fracture in one of her ribs from hitting the assembly table. Kate had set the broken bones in the helicopter, but several of the deeper cuts needed cleaning and stitches. There simply hadn't been enough time and medical supplies to set Blair completely to rights. Connor had been too badly hurt, and the leader of the resistance took priority over everything.

The medic who treated Blair couldn't give her anything more for the pain.

"I can't risk it," Maria Vasquez said helplessly, "You've already got too much stuff in your system as it is."

Blair, who was much more awake now, thanks to her nap, nodded. "Do what you have to," she said through gritted teeth.

Vasquez nodded and snapped on latex gloves. "Alright. Fair warning, the pain is going to be a bitch. I need you to strip. I have to scrub you before I can start stitching you up."

At that, Reese took Star by the hand. "Let's go find the mess. We haven't eaten in a while."

When they were gone, Marcus helped Blair out of her boots and clothes. Normally they would just cut them off, but Blair's cameo was still in good enough condition and they couldn't afford to waste the gear. The cool air hit her sweaty skin and she shivered, already missing her clothes. When she was in her underwear Marcus helped her onto the table, and then stood behind her so that her back was braced against his chest.

Vasquez came towards her with a medical scrub brush.

When Blair had been tossed around by the Terminator, dirt and machine oil and filth had gotten ground into her wounds. In order to prevent infection all of the crap needed to be scrubbed out so that the wounds could heal.

Blair had never been scrubbed before, but she'd taken shifts in the hospital during off duty hours and had seen those who had. They'd all screamed. Barnes patted her shoulder, sympathetic. He'd had to get scrubbed a few months ago when he'd gotten knifed by a scavanger and fallen in a tar pit.

Vasquez began scrubbing and Blair decided then and there that it was worse than being shot, crashing her bird, or losing a fight, or murdered by a machine. Boiling lava was running through her veins. Blair felt like it would burn her away until there was nothing left. She threw her head back against Marcus's shoulder and screamed. Tears ran down her cheeks.

"Shit!" Blair gasped, swiping at her wet cheeks with her good hand, "I think I'm supposed to have _some_ skin left."

Vasquez shook her head. "That thing got you good, chica. I've still got your other arm and your leg to do."

"Fuck," Blair said, voice small.

Vasquez nodded. "Fuck, indeed. I'm sorry. The bullet wound isn't as bad as it could be, though. Who did the stitching?"

"I did," Marcus said.

Vaquez winked at Blair. "You know your man's a catch when he can stitch you up without making you look like a fourth grade sewing project."

"Just get it over with already," Blair growled. Marcus was in no way hers, no matter how comfortable they were with each other.

Vasquez went back to scrubbing.

Marcus held Blair snug against him and she pressed back as hard she could, as though she could escape from the pain into him. His heart thumped behind her and so Blair concentrated on the comforting sound, counting the steady beats.

An eternity later, Vasquez set down her brush and picked up a needle and thread. The worst over, Blair slumped, only Marcus keeping her upright.

"That frigging sucked," she said.

He gave her a gentle squeeze in an as of yet unbattered area. "But you took it like a champ. Mostly."

She gave him the stink eye. "I'd like to see you do better."

Blair's arm now in a tidy sling, Vasquez began putting away her equipment. "You're all done. Clear out," she said.

Blair nodded. "Thanks."

Marcus held out her clothes and helped her dress. Blair knew she should probably be embarrassed, or at least freak out at the state of her body and hair, but everything hurt too much. At least he was still there. Marcus wouldn't give her a straight answer on what he wanted, but at least he hadn't run. Blair knew she was going to have to corner him and get a final answer eventually. She loved Marcus, she really did. It felt odd to admit it. Love was such a completely foreign thing in the Apocalypse. Blair couldn't believe she'd actually found it, but she also knew that she couldn't badger Marcus, try to force something that he would ever be interested in. It would suck, but then again life often did.

There was shouting outside the tent. Barnes ambled to the doorway and poked his head out. "Surgery's done, Connor's out and talking," he said, "Let's move."

Marcus moved to pick her back up, but Blair shook her head. "I'm gonna have to start walking on my own sooner or later."

He chuckled. "When you fall on your face I'll be there."

Blair looked at him. "You know," she said, "Your accent is hot. I don't know why you bother to hide it."

"Force of habit," he shrugged.

Kate met their small group, which consisted of them, Barnes, Kyle, and Star, at the entrance to the surgery. It was obvious that Connor's wife had been crying. Her face was pale, and her eyes red. Blair's heart sank. It couldn't be good; Kate's expression was not one of happy tidings. Blair reached for Marcus's hand and held it tight.

Barnes stepped forward. "What is it?" his deep baritone was low and calming.

Kate Connor took a deep, shuddering breath obviously trying to get control of herself. "His heart- the rebar nicked the aorta badly. We did the best we could, but we don't know if-, if-."

She couldn't finish, just buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Blair felt like crying herself. At the end of it all she had failed to keep John Connor safe. The hope of the Resistance was going to die. The machines had won. They'd come so far only to fail at the end.

Marcus stepped forward. "Take mine."

Everyone looked at him, confused. Kate looked bewildered and Blair felt like someone had sucker punched her in the mouth.

"Take mine," he repeated, "I'm not doing any good with it."

Kate said something in reply, and Kyle made a noise that sounded like a protest, but Blair didn't hear any of it. There was a rushing noise in her ears. She forced her suddenly dry mouth to swallow and looked at the man that she had come to love. Marcus was staring at Connor's prone form with such fervor, an almost ferocity. Blair realized then that Marcus felt that by sacrificing himself he could finally atone for the sins he felt weighed on him so heavily. There would never be any room there for her. Marcus craved that peace, that salvation so badly he was willing to die for it. Her hand slid out of his.

She couldn't be there another minute. Connor was going to live with Marcus's heart. There was no way she was going to fight that decision, even _she_ recognized that Connor was more important than anything, but she didn't have to like it.

Blair turned and quietly left, snagging a crutch on her way out. Her bullet wound was starting to throb again. All the walking she was doing was probably making it worse. To her surprise, Barnes followed her.

She refused to look at him, and walked until her wounds burned like fire and she had to stop and catch her breath. There were no tears, they were stuck somewhere in her along with silent screaming. The back of her throat and eyes burned.

"I'm sorry," Barnes said softly.

Blair let loose a long, ragged sigh. "Me too."

"There's a bottle of _Jose_ I've been saving in my gear. You're welcome to it," Barnes told her quietly.

She opened her mouth to refuse, and then closed it with a click. Fuckit. A drink sounded like heaven right now. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. I owe you for all you did." With that, Barnes turned and headed back into the surgery.

Blair made her way to Barnes's tent and found hefty sized bottle of _Jose Cuervo_ in his pack. The label had long since worn off but the glass was clean. She picked it up and a ray of light that made its way through the heavy green canvas of the tent walls hit the bottle and lit it up like a beacon. She tilted it, admiring the way the warm golden liquid inside sparkle like pirate treasure.

"Damn," she whispered, "Sneaky bastard."

Blair couldn't bring herself to take the entire bottle, however. That would be mean. A person could go their entire life without stumbling on a landmine of awesome like an untouched bottle of pre-machine tequila, and it would be a dick move to take it all away from Barnes, even though he'd offered. Besides, with all of the crap in her system, it would be beyond stupid to chug an entire bottle of tequila just because she was having a bad week.

Blair pulled a battered silver flask from her pocket. Her hand trembled as she undid the cap. Treasured possessions didn't count for much in the Wasteland, but Blair had managed to hold onto a few things. Her dad's flask was one of them. She ran her hands over the smooth metal, feeling out the familiar grooves and dings.

"I don't know what to do," she told it, "What should I do?"

The flask didn't say anything, obviously. It never did, even though she asked every now and then. Blair poured out the homemade moonshine before filling it with tequila. She looked fondly at the bottle. It had been a long, long time since she'd had a taste of the old world. Nowadays you were lucky to get booze that didn't taste like a combination of dirty motor oil and acid.

She skulked out of Barnes's tent and headed for the air field. She thought better when she was in a bird, it made her remember happier times when there were no cares and fears, just living.

The helicopter that had brought them out of Skynet was sitting right where the team had left it. Blair tossed her crutch and her gear inside and then heaved herself into the pilot's seat, propping her feet up on the console with a low groan. Her leg was still sore, but it was no longer the most painful thing on her body. She was oddly cold even though her gear was back on, which was nice because the dark interior was warm from the desert sun baking the metal. She snuggled into her chair and settled back, intending to wash her cares down with a taste of home long gone.

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In the end, she could only take a few blissful mouthfuls. The tequila was just too damn good waste all in one go. The few sips she had, combined with the warm cocoon she'd enshrined herself in and the last remnants of the morphine, was all it took to make a blissful numbness.

In the distance she could see fireworks and realized that the surgery for the transfer of Marcus's heart to Connor must have been successful.

Her heart clenched. She knew she shouldn't be so bitter; it had been a long time since they could have done something so risky as _fireworks_. The destruction of Skynet Central allowed them that temporary freedom. She squelched the bitterness that it was at Marcus's expense. It was his choice after all. She had no place in it, and he'd made that abundantly clear. It was time she made her peace with it, sucked it up, and moved on.

God, she was tired. It had been a long, long week. Blair was about to let herself fall asleep when the sound of boots crunching in the dirt outside the helicopter roused her.

She debated the merits of waking up and dealing with whoever wanted to talk to her, and then decided against it. If it was important enough, or if they were asshole enough, they'd bother her. She hoped they'd go away and leave her alone. Tucking her nose into her jacket and crossing her arms, she snuggled into her chair with a sigh.

The door opposite her opened and closed, and the entire helicopter rocked as though someone very, very heavy had gotten in.

A warm hand brushed her cheek, and her eyes snapped open.

Marcus Wright, very much alive, sat in the copilot's seat next to her. His long legs were smooshed up against the console, hands draped loosely over his knees. His clear blue eyes held her pinned and for a moment Blair felt caught, panicked. She swallowed.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered.

"Connor pulled through," he said softly, "But even if he hadn't, Kate tested me. I'm a universal donor, but the heart I've got woulda been too strong for him. He'd have died anyway."

Blair didn't say anything. What could she say? Glad you're okay, but we both know you'd prefer to be dead?

"I thought Connor was going to die," she said finally, in a small voice.

"It looked like he would there for a bit," Marcus admitted, "Apparently when you hit the Terminator you knocked its aim off a fraction. The rebar just nicked the aorta instead of severing it and the pulmonary trunk."

Blair nodded, and then looked away from him and out the cockpit window. Outside the desert was darkening. The sun sank low on the horizon, a golden pat of fire trailing a sheet of orange, then purple, then indigo. It was a breathtaking sight. Overhead, stars were starting to twinkle into existence. Blair shivered. Without the sun, the helicopter's interior was cooling rapidly.

"Blair." Marcus's voice was low and guttural.

She looked over, surprised. A pained look was sunk deep into the lines of his face. He reached for her and she pulled away. Her heart was breaking, but she couldn't take it. She couldn't touch him, flirt with him, continue whatever it was that they had because it _meant_ something with him. If Marcus couldn't give her what she craved, then she needed to move on.

"Don't touch me," she whispered hoarsely, "Please. I love you Marcus. I do, I'm in _love with you_. But I can't do this, I just can't. I don't want your pity, and I don't want to have to be there the next time a chance for you to throw your life away crops up. I get that shit went down in your life. I _get it,_ I really do, but I can't watch you do it. So please get out of this helicopter and walk away. I'd do it, but it hurts to move."

His hand retreated, clenched on top of his thigh. "I'm a lot of things Blair. A good, honest man isn't one of them. If I hadn't signed Serena's paperwork, I would have died a criminal and stayed dead. When I woke up in this shithole of a future, all I could think of was how I didn't deserve to be here. All I wanted was a way out. But then I met Kyle and Star. And I met you."

He looked at her, that electric blue gaze burning into the very core of her being. A warm, delicious feeling spread through her, gradually, curling down into her fingers and toes.

"You, Blair, you're- I've never met anyone like you." He looked at her like she was the most incredible thing that he'd ever seen. It made butterflies start rioting in her stomach. "I woke up and clawed my way out of the mud and shit and saw what the world came to. I was mad at myself, mad at the universe for letting me wake up. Then I met the kids, and you, and I didn't realize it but I finally found something I wanted more than anything, even though I don't deserve it. I looked so hard for my second chance and I didn't see it even though it was right in front of me. Blair I want you more than anything I've wanted in my entire life. I tried to haul my past around, felt like I was letting my brother and the cops I killed down if I forgot them. I tried, but I failed. I love you, Blair. Your life, your humor, God I can't give you up."

"Do you mean it?" Blair held the sides of her seat in a white knuckled grip, trying to ground herself while her thoughts and emotions rocketed around in her head like chrome balls in a pinball machine.

He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees. ""I haven't been scared in a long, long time. But when you ran at that thing, that _machine_, I thought my heart was going to stop and I realized then that I couldn't live without you. I meant every word, Blair."

Blair finally broke. She lunged awkwardly at him, into his lap, and held him fiercely. His arms came around her, gently, mindful of the fact that one of her arms was in a sling, a rib was cracked, and she'd been shot. Her hand curled into his short hair, feeling the rough area at the back of his skull where he had torn out his control chip. Blair rested her forehead against his, breathing erratic. She was such a mess, but God did she want him. She wanted him badly. Blair decided to throw caution to the wind.

She bent and kissed him. Apparently Marcus had been waiting for her to decide what she wanted because he cupped the back of her head, working his fingers into her thick brown curls. He bent, his mouth was on hers hot and wet. She nipped at his lower lip and felt him smile. Her hand slid up his chest to clumsily fumble at the buttons of his shirt. Marcus leaned forward, lips trailing down her neck to her collar bone. Blair's head fell back, and suddenly she was glad that buttons weren't rocket science, and that she didn't have to actually look to get his shirt open. His whiskers tickled and she couldn't help a breathless giggle. She threaded her hand into his hair, pulling his head back so that she could nibble at his throat in retaliation. She got a look at his half open shirt and laughed.

"Damn, you are one hairy dude," she said, planting a big wet smooch right on his mouth.

"Oi, woman. You don't look at a guy and laugh," he protested.

She'd been set on getting them both naked and horizontal (or diagonal, she wasn't picky), but a thought hit her and she jerked back. "Marcus, I swear to God if you pull a self sacrificing stunt again on me I'll-"

He laughed and kissed her nose. "I'm done, I promise. No more angst."

Blair settled back against him, slightly mollified, and mumbled, "Not that I'm not grateful that Connor's okay, cause I am."

Marcus snorted. "Y'know what Kate said? Even if they _had_ taken my heart, after a while my body would have rerouted power to a different subsystem and I'd have, quote, _restarted_."

Blair nuzzled into his sternum, inhaled the scent of his skin. The curly copper hair on his chest tickled her nose. "I'm glad you're durable," she said fiercely.

"Yea, me too." He sounded almost amazed about it.

She peered up at him. "How did you find me, anyway?"

Marcus tapped the side of his skull. "Terminator, remember? Apparently it's what we do, I'm good at it."

Blair concentrated on the feeling of his heart beneath her ear, and she remembered then that his skin was undamaged. She folded the hand that wasn't in a sling over his heart. His machine fingers closed over her hand. Blair tried to figure out how to put into words what she wanted to ask.

"What happened to you in Skynet?" Inwardly she cringed. Way to be blunt, Blair. Not to mention ruin the moment like a bucket of cold water.

He was silent a while, and she could hear him swallow.

"It was too easy, all of it," he murmured, "I shoulda realized. From the very beginning they were watching me, what I said, what I did. I was the bait, the lure for Connor so the machines could get to him."

Blair touched his face, felt the slight rasp of his stubble. Skynet had regrown his burned skin perfectly, right down to the rough reddish whiskers on his face. "Well I for one am glad they fixed you."

His gaze slid away from hers to stare out at the darkness of the desert. "Can you see?"

Blair looked where he was looking. She wasn't exactly sure where this was going. "A few feet. I can see the silhouette of the guard tower, but that's about it," Blair said slowly.

"I can see everything," he said simply. "I can feel the machine in me now. It analyzes what I look at, can focus on different things, gives me a summary of what I'm lookin' at."

Blair reached down and picked up his burned hand. Metal skeleton fingers intertwined with hers. They both looked down at their joined hands; the shiny clean alloy of his hand was a stark contrast to her tanned, slightly dirty skin. Making sure he was watching, Blair pulled his hand to her mouth and kissed the metal fingertips. His breath hitched.

"It'll be okay," she said, "You're not in this by yourself. Not anymore."

Marcus kissed her, hard. "Neither are you."

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_The End._


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